Up Against a Concrete Angel
by Baellista
Summary: Can you be dark without being Evil? Could you resist the abyss that beckons? When love is gone, what is left? Major Character death in Chap 21 No HBP spoilers.
1. Words Against a Concrete Angel

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I GOT A BETA! I GOT A BETA! *bounces* and this is her version of mah story! Major props to Jamie ^__^ Let me also just give major props to another writer on FF.net named Morgane! I suggest you check out her story, shades of grey, which inspired this...well, I'm reluctant to call it a story. But still, please check it out! And leave reviews, even if they are flames, as long as they're honest.  
  
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~~~~~~~~~~ Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. No infringements on any copyrights are intended, and quite frankly,Ii'm not good enough to make any money from writing even if I wanted to.~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*****  
  
His world. That was all that she was. And in the few short years they'd been together, all that she had ever been…and all, ultimately, that she wasn't. He'd loved her, he'd once proclaimed. Loved her more than life itself—loved her more than anything. So…why? The question remained. Why was he still alive? Why was he looking down at the smooth wood that formed her casket, watching the dirt trickle from his hand onto the cold wood below? Why did he feel no pain? No anger? Why was there nothing? Why did he feel as though he was completely numb? Like nothing had mattered? He didn't understand it. He didn't understand himself, and in that moment, he set the wheels in motion. The wheels that would most ultimately lead to his own damnation.  
  
"Harry?" A soft, clear voice came from his left side, and he felt the gentle touch of her hand upon his shoulder. "Harry...It's over. Everyone's gone now." The words took a while to penetrate his brain, but when they did, he turned to look at the bushy-haired girl next to him.  
  
"Gone?" he asked, not realizing how lost he looked, how blank he sounded.  
  
"Yes, Harry…" He watched, from a distance it seemed, as she reach out and took hold of his hand, so long completely empty of all dirt except a few little granules that had worked their way into the miniscule creases that lined his palm and fingers. She pulled it in, placing her other hand around it, trying to cup his large blunt hand in her delicate, ink-stained ones.  
  
Her lower lip trembled, and chocolate-coloured eyes that were strangely haunted shone glassily.  
  
"She's gone…and…"  
  
"I know, Harry..." his friend said softly, and suddenly anger flash boiled through him. /How dare you?!/ Harry thought to himself. /How dare you say that you know? You don't know anything! NOTHING! YOU KNOW NOTHING!!/ Rage glistening in his hard-as-stone green eyes; he jerked his hand back from her, rubbing it with his other, which was calloused and a good bit rougher.   
  
"NO! You don't know a damned thing! All those useless facts that you've garnered from your reading, all the perfect 10's on your papers! It all amounts to absolutely nothing!" Almost before he'd realized it, his hands had shot out, catching her in the chest and pushing her back against one of the many tall monuments that dominated the area, like somber spectators to life's doom. It was a concrete angel, wings folded close to it, and hands around its abdomen. Looking as though it were weeping quietly.  
  
"You don't know a damned thing!..." He paused, and ran his hands hard through his messy black hair. "You don't..." He swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts, and when he spoke, it was with an eloquence she'd never heard out of him before. "I don't think you even know true love. Do you know what it's like to be with someone that makes your life complete? To wake up in the morning, look at the one laying beside you, and realize that no matter how hard life gets, you can survive it just because that person is there? Because you're part of something so special that it fills your world? Your heart. Your soul? Do you?!"  
  
He registered that there was no fear in her eyes, just a calm acceptance, and he knew that she would take his anger upon herself without a second thought, that she would do this, and then hold him afterwards. "It's not as easy as that which is taught in books, Hermione; it's so much more complex. It's not all about... It's not the childish love you and Ron share…Not crushes nor kisses nor adolescent adoration that should have long been washed away…." His hand came up then, acting it seemed almost on its own, and brushed a tear—perhaps of sympathy?—from her cheek. "Know love…" he repeated again, "and as you know the light, know the dark….and you will realize…" He took a step back, his anger almost completely gone, burdens of all and resignation making his shoulders curve inward in the slouch that only one who bears the weight of the nothing on their shoulders can slouch. "That in the end…It's all a dream. That no matter what you say you know, or what you feel you know, everything so good and…" Pain gripped his throat, forcing the words back, and he swallowed hard. "And you will realize that your perfect best friend…your perfect Harry…the Boy-Who-Lived…was fooling himself all along. I live not because I'm special. Not because I'm meant to be the light of the wizarding world. I live because………"  
  
He let it trail off, leaving so many things unsaid, and placed a kiss to his fingertips, and brushed them achingly sweet across her cheek. Then he turned, his black robes swirling about his legs, and walked off into the gloom of the night. "Because I'm a coward….in the end, I cannot end this. But I will help…" These words drifted back to her as he disappeared into the swiftly-encroaching mists, and as he disappeared from sight, black-tinged fingers lifted into the air, tracing out some unspoken plea for him.  
  
"I know…Harry. I know." The words were filled with despair, and the eyes that always seemed to know everything, now shone with no knowledge, but instead all light that remained seemed drawn into them and she lifted her hands up to her face to utter dry sobs. And as her robe's sleeves drifted down silkily around her elbows, just the barest impression of a dark serpent could be seen upon her left forearm. A dark, malevolent stain on perfect ivory skin.  
  
*****  
  
~~~@~~~A/N: Well, here's the first chapter. I know it's done a bit different, and I'd welcome constructive criticism in it. Also, there is a character resemblance being worked in that's not immediately apparent, but as I see it, very possible. Does anyone see it? If so, leave the answer in a review! *beam*~~~@~~~ 


	2. Violence and Desire, Twistedly Seducing

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Alright, here's chapter two. Now, I know that this story has a lot of questions that it will raise. Like who? what? why? Well, mainly why. Now I think this would be classified as a dark Harry fic, but I don't know. So I'm not going to classify it as such. This is set a few years AFTER graduating from Hogwarts, by the way.  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. No infringements on any copyrights are intended, and quite frankly, I'm not good enough to make any money from writing even if I wanted to.  
  
*****3 weeks later*****  
  
Raindrops fell upon cheeks already wet with tears, flowing down to join each other in the moisture-laden robe that hangs so heavily on a form so slight. A violent, yet quiet, sob racked the form, for no sound was going to be allowed. Memories flew like raging water through a brain almost numb to everything else. Instinct guided unsteady steps. Mainly the memories were just flashes of images.  
  
A bright yellow rose.  
  
A wizard picture with the two of them waving like mad.   
  
Scenes from a life that had never been devoid of danger.  
  
Such was the life they led, they had always led, and most probably would always lead, she thought to herself for a brief second before shoving the thought aside. Brown hair tamed by the damp, cascaded in curls down shoulders and a back that had been naturally bent by the constant clutching of books even before these last few years had happened.   
  
The Dark Mark being branded.   
  
The smile upon the Dark Lords face, his triumph at this last coup shining through.  
  
A certain red-head kneeling in a dark circle.  
  
The gleam of unearthly light settling upon a wand as it was lifted.  
  
The sound of "Avada Kadavra" from a voice so familiar, yet so strange.  
  
She had done what was commanded of her, and a strange sense of pleasure that she knew she should be ashamed of had filled her. But she would be ashamed later; for that moment in time, she was glad that she had done something right. That she had acted, not just watched, not just advised.  
  
Actually acted.  
  
Another sob, and a hard swallow.  
  
She looked around then, furtively, hoping no one had recognized her in the Wizarding Village she so rarely frequented now.  
  
A sigh of relief slipped through her full lips. It appeared she was safe.  
  
An indelicate snort of laughter sounded from her.  
  
She? A traitor to her friends, to the side that had so counted on her intelligence…safe? True, they had not found out about it yet, but it was inevitable. They would know, and she would face their wrath. Dumbledore would be disappointed. She stopped walking as the memory of her first encounter with a Dementor slammed into the forefront of her consciousness. But then, she remembered. The Dementors had joined Voldemort, Azkaban was not nearly as dreadful-sounding without them.  
  
Would she go to Azkaban? Most certainly.  
  
Did she care? Not really.  
  
She had done so much wrong, and she knew it. When the time came to accept her punishment, she would do so with her head held high. After all, she had been a Gryffindor, even if now she was more of a Slytherin than most that had ever attended the school. All that she wanted could so easily corrupt, yet she needed them. They drove her. So she'd honed her instincts, her skills. Fed the fires that could consume her.  
  
Ambition? Oh yes. Cunning? Of course. A desire for power? Why else would she be here?  
  
With power, things could go the way she wanted them to, the way she needed them to.  
  
But for now, for now she would continue on in the charade. She would be the good girl, the devil's angel. Except her hell was not one that she longed to share. It was a hell that she fiercely denied being in. This was her choice, her bed to lie in, her present, her future.  
  
The edge of the village brought her back to the present.   
  
A quick glance around showed she was alone.   
  
Several steps into the shadows... a spell murmured quietly, and instantly she was gone.  
  
*****  
  
"'Mione! I've been worried sick about you! Where have you been? Did you go to see Harry? Has he been found?" Questions poured forth from Ron's mouth as soon as she opened the door and set foot inside. A slight warmth filled her. She and Ron had argued like cats and dogs, but that was just the beginnings of a mutual crush. She understood that now. Another memory engulfed her senses.  
  
Three years back. She, clothed in robes of white, and Ron in robes of brown, standing underneath an elm tree. The words—spell, actually—that were recited, winding around them like invisible silken threads. The beginning of a web.  
  
"No, he's not been found yet, Ron. Give me a moment to get these robes off please." Calm and collected. How she always sounded, no matter how much stress she was under. She could feel deep brown eyes boring into her back as she walked sedately up the stairs. She met again those same eyes as she came back down, dressed in another black robe. Ron worried about her. She knew, and she appreciated him for it. He really was a good person, and she didn't blame him for the mistake they'd made in getting married. They'd not been intimate for several months now, as she grew tired of casting a concealment charm over the Mark every day in case they ended up in bed together.   
  
Intercourse—she couldn't bring herself to call it making love—was a duty for her, and she could tell it had been turning into one for him, too.  
  
They'd married too hastily, and the passion that had bound them had burned out too quick. He had not objected when she'd moved into the spare bedroom. After all, life other than that had continued on "normally."  
  
Whatever normal was.  
  
"He's not been found. I went to meet a friend." That was true enough. Voldemort was a friend in some strange way. "Now, really, why must you ask me so many questions? Any news regarding Harry you know I would immediately tell you." A breath. "Now, if you don't mind—I'm going to fix some dinner. You shouldn't do that." She waved a hand in the direction of his rather shocked face. "It makes you look quite horrible." One foot in front of the other. Her stomach already growling, mouth watering, in anticipation of what she would make.   
  
"Do you hate me?"   
  
Her muscles locked up.  
  
/Deep breaths/, she told herself. /Just take a deep breath. In....Out...In...Out./  
  
She turned slowly on her heel to stare levelly at her one-time best friend.  
  
"I don't hate you Ron. If I hated you, I'd hex you instead of putting up with your inane and bothersome questions constantly. Now if you don't mind…" Turning on a heel, she walked into the kitchen, banging around pots and pans just to…make Ron angry? Annoy him? No. Neither. Simply because she craved the noise, the outlet of anger and tension that she would never acknowledge.   
  
She was bad.  
  
She enjoyed the meetings. Voldemort had told her this time and time again.   
  
With that, she firmly pushed all thoughts from her mind and almost mechanically set about fixing food.  
  
~~~~  
  
Alone in her room, an empty bowl beside her.  
  
Staring down at the blank pages of her journal.  
  
Picking up her quill, she dipped it in the inkwell and began to write.  
  
***** "Will I dream tonight? Will I dream of him? His silken hair and brilliantly-coloured eyes? Will I feel his hands on my body? Him between my thighs?"*****  
  
Pause, to listen to the creaks of the house, the wind outside. A pause to let her imagination run free.  
  
Slight shiver of anticipation? Excitement? Both maybe.  
  
And again.  
  
*****"The roughness strikes a chord within me. I don't know. Maybe its an early form of punishment…but when he's whispering sweet curses in my ears, and when his teeth draw blood from their nips…I…"*****  
  
"'Mione? I'm sorry."  
  
The thoughts fled her head, and stomping her foot in exasperation, she closed her journal, and replaced her quill in the ink well.  
  
"Yes, Ron…" She breathed out, making her tone slightly sweet. "I've just had…a very … full day. Don't worry about it."  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"I'd really rather you didn't. I'm just going to bed now."  
  
Silence on both sides of the door.  
  
Finally broken with awkward, but well-meant words.  
  
"Oh, alright then. Sleep well. Love you." The endearment was added on to the end haphazardly, the words filled with no warmth. It was merely a saying now.  
  
"You, too," she replied, as had become her habit. Lifting her hands, she unfastened her robe, and let it drop to the floor. Her other garments followed it. Padding over to the bed, she slipped beneath the covers, and closed her eyes.  
  
"Ugh!" Another word, much less tame, slipped from her lips. It was rare that she talked like that, and it certainly would never happen around those she knew. Throwing back the cover, she stood up and wandered over to the clothes. Methodically she began to fold them, and then lay them carefully on the chair beside her wardrobe.  
  
Once Light. Now Dark. But always, always a neat freak.  
  
Sighing, she slipped back in bed, and closed her eyes, calling up the same image she called up every night now.  
  
The anger in his eyes.  
  
His hands upon her chest.  
  
The cold stone at her back.  
  
Warmth pooled low in her abdomen, and a slight smile tilted her lips as she gave herself over to the alluring darkness of violence and dreams.   
  
~~~@~~~ So what did ya'll think? I've decided to continue with it, simply because I like the story that's developing in my head. Each part will be done like this. Just scenes. Each one important in their own way, but not strung together. This one is obviously Hermione's. The next one, Harry's; done in same time frame.~~~@~~~ 


	3. Bathe Me With Love in the Waters of Hate

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Alright, here's the third chapter. It's a bit shorter than the rest, but...*shrugs* I can make no excuses, except to simply state the truth: I suck! lol!After note: ap262004-revised  
  
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Disclaimer: Didn't own it then, Don't own it now, Never will own it, and Certainly don't have a dime to mah name, mmk?  
  
*****  
  
"Hermione? Are you going to be home for dinner this week?" he asked almost forlornly. When she heard that note, the bushy-haired young woman stopped, her hand on the door, and slowly turned around.  
  
"I..." She hesitated, not knowing exactly what to say, not wanting to spend that much time around him in the awkward atmosphere of a relationship gone wrong. Why couldn't they have just stayed best friends? "Yes Ron. I'll be here."  
  
He smiled with puppy-dog like eagerness shining in his eyes. Maybe just for one night they could pretend to be in love again. Just pretend. That was enough for him. Even he wasn't so thick as to not realize that them entering into this relationship was a mistake. "I'll coo-...er I'll get your favorite stuff. Brussel sprouts and all!" Ron trying to cook was a -bad- idea, they'd found that out ages ago.  
  
Hermione smiled. A sad, hollow expression, that showed how clearly she was wishing for the past. "and I'll pick up some chocolate frogs or something for desert. But ONLY if you promise to brush your teeth!" She shuddered. "All that sugar..."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, mother."  
  
She snorted. "Thats just...wrong, Ron. Really really wrong."  
  
He thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, mate, you're right."  
  
Hermione arched a brow, and then smiled a bit more naturally. "Mate.." She whispered. "That sounds nice." and with that she turned, opened the door, and walked out.  
  
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Well, he'd never been lacking in courage, and he wasn't about to start now. All he had to do when his steps faltered, was to think of her. Now lying so far below-ground, wrapped in Death's loving embrace. "Voldemort..." he murmured, pushing the round framed glasses up to their proper position on his nose as he wandered through the Forbidden Forest, not caring that the hem of his robes were now ragged and torn from the many thorns and brambles trying, almost valiantly, to hold him back. Did the magic of the forest guess what he was going to do? He didn't know. And at the moment, all he cared about was following through. Following through till the end. /Till death do us part/.  
  
One foot in front of the other.   
  
Clearing his mind the way he'd been taught.  
  
His shoulders squared against the droop he knew they longed to give in to.  
  
Tilting his head ever so slightly, listening with all the might available, without casting a spell. He didn't want any of Dumbledore's people being able to trace his location. /Or the Ministry for that matter./   
  
A small smile gracing rather "kissable" lips, according to...her.   
  
He was close. He knew it. The scar had begun to burn. He resisted the urge to press his knuckles to it, to try and knead the pain away. It was only going to get worse, as he well knew. For he was walking into his enemy's hands. He knew there was going to be a meeting here tonight, near Hogwarts, and he fought off the nagging suspicion that Voldemort had let his plans be known deliberately. He'd prefer things to be done on his terms.  
  
But, it didn't matter.   
  
Nothing did.   
  
Not now.   
  
"Well, that's wrong..." he whispered, pausing to sneeze several times, as rain soaked the emerald green robes specially chosen for the occasion. "One thing does...VOLDEMORT!" He ended on a yell, head thrown back, sound coming from deep within him.   
  
Silence.   
  
No answer grated across his nerves, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.   
  
"VOLDEMORTTTTT!" He gritted his teeth, and tried again. Still no answer, but he could sense amusement. Kneeling suddenly, knowing instinctively what he must do, he lowered his eyes to the ground, and concentrated on opening the link between them fully.   
  
/Bastard!/ He shot out when he could feel the Heir of Slytherin's presence more clearly along the line they had.  
  
/Well, hello, Mr. Potter. What brings thissss…unexpected pleasure?/ The voice sent shudders through him.   
  
Shudders he didn't try to hide.  
  
/I...give up./ Harry replied, his shoulders slumping as he tried to allow grief to shine through, but again, there was merely nothing. /You snake-tongued son of a-/ "Aii!" Crippling pain shot through him, and he flopped face first on the floor of the forest.  
  
/I am more powerful than you can even imagine, Mr. Potter. Expecially now. Do you know WHY, Mr. Potter?/ There was malicious amusement in the voice.  
  
/Because you destroyed me?/ Harry muttered this mentally as well as vocally, as he pushed himself back up to a kneeling position. There was dead silence along the link, and then...  
  
...He heard laughter?   
  
Not cruel and malicious as usual, but genuine laughter. Something he'd said, or that someone else had done, had really set Voldemort off into the "giggle-fits" as he'd heard Lavender say once. Some of the amusement translated to him, and he could feel his lips curling in a reluctant smile. Abruptly the sound halted, and Voldemort spoke, but this time, it was a true voice he heard, not a mental connection.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
  
  
Pain shot through him, scalding every nerve, but Harry didn't scream. It was if he'd blocked part of himself off from it, and he stared dully up at Voldemort while his body writhed in the dirt.  
  
A brow was arched as the torture was called off.  
  
Red eyes narrowed.  
  
A smirk played about both sets of lips.  
  
"Welcome home, Harry."  
  
"Thank you, my lord."   
  
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~~~@~~~Author's note: Ya know, it may be good to NOT read too far into things...or maybe you should...*sparkle* Well, questions? comments? *lol*~~~@~~~ 


	4. Trust the Tears of the Purest Heart

A/N:You know the drill by now, not mine, never mine, never will be mine, and I'm just a li'l stupid struggling writer wanna be, so yeah...  
  
Suggestions for where i could "Filler" it more are WELCOME!  
  
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"How long has this been going on?" A partially-gray haired, yet still young, man stared at the old man across from him, the one who had once been his Professor, and then, his colleague.  
  
"For two hours now. He's cried non-stop, and I cannot ascertain what is wrong." Blue eyes had lost their twinkle, as he lowered himself down into the comfortable headmaster's chair behind his desk. Steepling his fingers together, he stared off into space as again he tried to figure out what was causing the tears of his beloved companion.  
  
"I always thought…" Remus hesitated, then plowed on. "I thought you could speak with Fawkes. Is this true?" He hoped it was, but knew in his heart, Dumbledore would have already tried that, if it was so. Over top of half-moon shaped lenses, Albus Dumbledore, long time Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stared at his former student for a thoughtful moment, and then slowly shook his head.  
  
"My understanding of..." he looked again at his crying companion, the beautiful phoenix, "Fawkes, comes from our long relationship. We've spent almost uncountable years together. Sometimes it seems we can read each others' minds, but although he can read mine...Alas, I fear, I cannot read his."  
  
The werewolf's shoulders slumped, and he sat down in the chair opposite Dumbledore. "What about Harry? He's always had, it seems, a connection with Fawkes, every si—"  
  
Dumbledores eyes grew wide, and he suddenly rose from his chair, stopping Remus' words. Slippers shuffled on the floor as he walked to the fire-bird, and gently laid a hand on the smooth feathers of its back. "Is this it, my dear friend? Do you cry for Mr. Potter?"  
  
Fawkes trilled a half-flat note of agreement, which caused Remus, who was now by Dumbledore's side, to share a look with the old man.  
  
"Is Harry in trouble, Fawkes?" Dumbledore asked, thinking back. None had heard from Harry since Ginny Weasley's death, but all had assumed he just needed time and space to grieve. Had something happened? Fawkes shook his head, though, which threw them both off.  
  
"Harry's not in trouble?" Remus asked, and Fawkes lifted a noble head to stare at him. "Mm, okay, obviously not." His eyes met Dumbledore's again, and together they both said the same thing...   
  
"Then what's wrong?"   
  
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Miles away...   
  
One of the many masked Death Eaters stared in amazement, and horror, as Voldemort led a young, messy-haired young man into the ring they all formed. A cruel-looking smile graced Voldemort's lips, and what seemed to be a smirk, though she'd never seen it on his face that she could recall, curled Harry's. It stayed even as Voldemort began to speak. "You all are here to witness a most spectacular coupe of your Lord. Even more brilliant than the recruitment of our latest. For years I sought to kill Mr. Potter, to destroy him...and I HAVE SUCCEEDED! I have broken the noble, brave Gryffindor. He's learned who is the strongest, and he came, and knelt at my feet." A maniacal gleam lit the slitted red eyes. "Soon now, the world will know what has happened, and they will bow at Lord Voldemort's feet!" Laughter spilled from his lips, and the Death Eaters all joined in, although one's laughter was rather forced, as she continued to stare at Harry in horror. "So...that said...Something I thought would never happen, except perhaps...under imperious...It will be a delight for her, as it will for me. My dear..." His eyes turned to the small female Death Eater.   
  
/Oh God...Oh no...please, don't.../   
  
"Do give us the pleasure? Perform your first initiation."  
  
The world began to spin much faster around the bushy-haired girl, and her hands shook.  
  
Swallowing hard to dislodge the lump of—fear? pleasure? tears?—in her throat.  
  
Fingernails digging in to her palms, leaving crescent-shaped wounds.  
  
Blood seeping down her fingertips, caressing the wand held in her hand.  
  
Then a calmness, an acceptance, overtook her, and she smiled coldly.   
  
"Thank you, my Lord."  
  
Reaching up, she removed her mask, so that Harry could see who it was, who it was that was to torture him, and cast her old friend a smile. "Welcome, Harry." The word was whispered, as Remus had taught them.  
  
"Crucio."   
  
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Alright: I'd like to ask a question: what do you think is currently going on? Questions WILL be answered, but I'm curious as to what people think are the answers so far, and as usual, help IS wanted AND needed. Criticism is always welcome, as long as it's constructive. If you've read this far, only to flame, then no offence, but...that's...issuey? No ones forced you to read, much less review, ya know? 


	5. Answer Me One Question

You know the drill by now, not mine, never mine, never will be mine, and I'm just a li'l stupid struggling writer wanna be, so yeah...and how in the WORLD do you save italics using windows xp? *whimper*  
  
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Pain burned through his nerves, clawing at each one. His fingers curled, dug into his palms. A scream worked in his throat, begging to be released. He didn't let it.  
  
Tears built up in her eyes. She swallowed hard, several times. Her hand quavered, but held true in the end. Her jaw began to tremble; she bit hard on the inside of her cheek to stop it from happening. /Scream, Harry...please, scream...the sooner you do, the sooner it will be over with./  
  
He didn't scream.  
  
Voldemort watched in amusement, as the red light flowed from Hermione's wand to the Potter boy's body. A still apparently arrogant boy. It appeared his little Death Eater was very loyal to him, torturing one of her best friends so willingly. He wasn't blind, he could see the tears in her eyes, but they hadn't fallen yet, and her hand only faltered for a second, but never once had the curse stopped.  
  
"DAMN IT, HARRY!" The words that came from the Mudblood's lips surprised even Voldemort. She had a reputation for being a prim priss who never cursed, much less openly cussed. He watched, one brow arched, wondering what she would do next.  
  
He wasn't disappointed.  
  
Continuing the cruciatus, Granger stormed over to the jet-black-haired boy, and drew back her foot, then rammed it forward into his ribs. "SCREAM!" she yelled at him, kicking yet again.  
  
Emerald eyes stared up into chocolate brown ones, and saw the tears that threatened to spill, and what Voldemort could not. The sympathy and the pleading.  
  
He got the message, and as she delivered a third kick—that probably looked like it was a lot more painful than it actually was—threw back his head and gave the scream in his throat freedom.  
  
Almost instantly, Voldemort clapped lazily and waved Hermione away.  
  
"If only others..." His glance went to Snape, who stared down at the ground, as though Voldemort could see through the mask, not wanting the Dark Lord to see the hatred and disgust in his eyes. "Were as willing as Miss Granger, things would be so…much...more interesting." That said, he dropped the subject, turning his attention to the boy who was picking himself up, wincing as he dusted off.  
  
"Well, Harry, now there's only one thing left to do."  
  
Harry quirked a brow, looking him straight in the eyes. "What's that, milord?"  
  
A smile twisted Voldemort's lips.  
  
"Kill Dumbledore."  
  
Silence fell, as all eyes trained on the Boy-Who-Lived. Still, amazement flickered through them, when he didn't just merely nod, but nodded and smiled. "So, who gets this privilege?" he asked, his tone silky.  
  
"Oh...I thought it would be interesting if two students were reunited with their teacher." His eyes turned to Snape again, and he drawled out. "Severus, come."  
  
Immediately the potions master came, and knelt, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes, suppressing emotion as he knew he must. Voldemort could practically smell fear. "Yes, Milord?"  
  
"I think its time for you to take a more...active role, than just spying."  
  
"Yes, Milord."  
  
"I think Granger would be the best suited for that."  
  
"Yes, Milord." Red eyes turned to Hermione, who'd replaced her mask hurriedly.  
  
"I do believe you should go spread the good news to Dumbledore. You're a smart girl. Figure out how."  
  
....Silence fell, then quietly...  
  
"Yes, milord."  
  
"Oh, and Harry?"  
  
"Yes, Vold...milord?"  
  
"Go make an appearance before the wizarding world starts to worry about their precious saviour."  
  
Harry bowed slightly, and Disapparated, leaving even Voldemort slightly shocked; but the others were in a worse state, when Voldemort chuckled after a moment, and dismissed the rest of them.  
  
Pop after pop sounded.  
  
Snape, landing outside of the Hogwarts boundaries, strode into the castle, slamming the doors open in his "majestic" way, and headed for the dungeon. First years and fifth years alike fled from the stony-faced Potions Master as his robes billowed around him, on the way to his private chambers. As soon as the door had latched, the most feared Hogwarts teacher went to the bathroom, and knelt.  
  
And threw up.  
  
Several times.  
  
---  
  
Hermione, as soon as she had Apparated away, a little ways from her home, did basically the exact same thing, wondering if she'd be able to pull off this latest assignment from Voldemort.  
  
But she had to.  
  
She didn't have a choice.  
  
Light steps carried her to the bedroom and after placing several sound-proofing charms, she threw herself across the bed, and let the shivers and shock run their course.  
  
"Harry..." she whispered, as the tears started, unable to believe, yet knowing it was all too real. "Why?"   
  
Authors Notes: I'm about ready to give up, honestly *sighs* thank you the reviewer who told me I just had to update though. That was rather cool ^_^ I hope everyone had a good Christmas. Review please??? 


	6. Release Your Rage so That I May Dream

AN:: Revised AP 28  
  
"Mione..." Ron whined. "You said you'd be home for dinner last week, and you never were!"  
  
  
  
Hermione had just walked in the door, sick to her stomach from another meeting with Voldemort, so dealing with a whiney husband was one of the last things she wanted to do. It showed in the glare she leveled at him. So stern that he actually dropped back a step.  
  
She sighed. "Honestly, Ron. I had unexpected things pop up. I couldn't help it." She shook her head, and took off her black robe, hanging it up beside the door.  
  
  
  
He watched silently as she went into her bedroom and appeared a moment later with a hair tie, which she quickly bound her hair back with, and gave a sigh of her own. "Look, I'm home now..." She said resignedly. "Why don't we have that dinner?" A smile touched her lips, but not her eyes. However, all Ron saw (on purpose) was the smile. Punching his fist in the air like the teenager he seemed to mentally be, he said-  
  
"Be right back then!!!" and was in the floo and on his way to his mother's almost before she could blink.  
  
"Almost twenty-three and still depending on his mother." A sneer that would have made Snape proud, had he seen it, touched her face. It faded quickly though as she continued to stare in the direction of the fire-place, and finally she just shook her head in silent amusement and settled down on the couch to wait, absently renewing the charm to disguise the death-eaters mark.  
  
  
  
A good fifteen minutes passed before the flames of the fire turned green and Ron emerged wtih various shrunken packages, which he took into the kitchen and began to unshrink and reheat. Hermione stayed on the couch the whole time, her eyes closed, head leaning back. She was just too weary to even try to read. All she could really think of was she wasn't in the mood to put up with her husband at the moment. This feeling was reaffirmed when he walked into the living room again and bent down behind her to place a kiss on her forehead.  
  
Her breath caught.  
  
She couldn't repress a slight shudder and twitch from the pain the light contact caused.  
  
"Ron, I'm not a--" The bushy haired young woman started to say, but then stopped and restarted her sentence. "Is dinner ready?"  
  
She looked up at him questioningly after a moment.  
  
  
  
He nodded.  
  
  
  
She groaned quietly and got to her feet, heading into the kitchen quickly so he wouldn't try to touch her.  
  
  
  
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~~3 days later~~  
  
A tousled-haired young man stood outside Gringotts bank, head tilted back as he looked over the rather magnificent structure. One said to be the safest place for something, besides Hogwarts.  
  
He snorted.  
  
How many times was it that Voldemort had managed, somehow or another, to extend his grasp inside the school? How many times had Harry faced him down? But those were just battles. Many, many battles. Now, with the love of his life gone, he didn't care. Living was pointless, really. It wasn't like the public actually cared about him. Everyone only wanted "The Boy Who Lived" to be their precious savior.  
  
Laughter bubbled up inside him, and spilled out. The mock-joy drew the glances of passer-bys, and soon word had spread.  
  
Harry was alive, and he was...laughing?  
  
"Wotcher, Harry!" He froze, the laughter fading.  
  
"Hallo, Tonks," he said, without even turning around.  
  
"We've been worried about choo, ya know?" The currently flame-red haired metamorphmagus stepped up beside him, laying a hand gently on his arm.  
  
Harry flinched. "Please don't." He said it quietly, still never bothering to look at her.  
  
A frown appeared between blood-red eyebrows, and Nymphadora Tonks, who would only answer to Tonks, withdrew her hand. "Sorry..." she said quietly.  
  
  
  
He nodded. "S'okay. I'm just a bit...under the weather."   
  
/Cruciatus after-effects...bloody annoying./  
  
"Ahh…" Immediately she took it as meaning he was still just having trouble dealing with Ginny's death. It had hit many people hard, but especially the Weasleys, who had so far in this war—before Ginny—managed to not lose a single child. Percy didnt count. He'd broken ties with the family of his own free will, and to Ron, Fred, and George, was as good as dead.  
  
Bringing her hand up, she rubbed at the back of her neck, wondering what to say next.  
  
He solved the problem by abruptly turning to face her, and giving a brief smile. "Well, I've got things to be doing. Bye." Then he walked inside, without any further ado.  
  
Minutes later, Harry emerged, his money bag full to the brim, and he headed to one of the spots that he normally would not have been caught dead in of his own free will. Flourish and Blotts.  
  
The place was ...well, Hermione had thought it was magnificent, and Ginny had rather loved it herself. To him, it was just a musty old bookstore. Its only saving grace was the fact that it held knowledge. And knowledge...is power. He'd just recently come to understand what Hermione had been getting at with her love of books. He started to rush through, but forced himself to slow down, to amble down the aisles, eyes drifting over the various titles.  
  
So You Want to Become an Animagi? This is What You Need to Know found its place in his arms, as well as Stealth: A Muggle AND Wizarding Skill: How to Make the Shadows Your Friend. He added a book of 103 Humourous Potions to the pile, and then closed his eyes, reaching out and grabbing one from the shelves. It turned out to be For the Bachelor Wizard: Easy Make, Easy Bake! Spells to Keep the Meat on Your Bones. This time, surprising him, he laughed genuinely. It was...fitting. Then he got the books that he was truly interested in. The Most Deadly Dangerous Curses—What You need to Know and Antidotes to the Unfamiliar—Saving Graces for Deadly Times.  
  
He'd put them all to use.  
  
Making his way to the counter, he forced himself to chat amiably with the owner as he paid for his purchases, and purchased a small carry-all bag enchanted to hold 10 times more than the normal amount it looked to. About ten fake smiles later, he was finally out the door, and he hurried to an alley, leaning against the brick wall and breathing deeply. Being around people being so...bright...so happy...made him want to scream, to curse...to hurt. And that just wouldn't do. At least not yet.  
  
When he was sufficiently under control, he visited the robes shop, and left his address, paying ahead of time. "Finally..." he murmured, walking out into the crowded street, but paying no attention to those around him.  
  
An eye-blink later, he was gone.  
  
Then, he was home.  
  
He took a moment to look at the outside of the home he and Ginny had bought. It wasn't anything fancy. A simple, dark red, two-story, with silver trim. Ivy had been allowed to grow as it wanted, as long as it didn't cover the windows, and small flower-gardens blossoming with brilliant colours edged the natural-stone walkway leading up to the door. The house was pretty, but over-all, Harry had favored the backyard more.  
  
Specifically the Quidditch pitch.  
  
That had cost a pretty penny. But it had been worth it. Most of the time when they were home, they had found various friends over, and all of them in the back-yard holding impromptu Quidditch matches.  
  
Memories swamped him as he put down his tote-bag, and walked to the kitchen window, looking out at the pitch.  
  
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, and himself indulging in a group hug after defeating Remus, Bill, Charlie, Dumbledore, and Tonks in a game.  
  
Ginny tugging him to her for her "victory" kiss after beating him at a game of Catch the Snitch.  
  
The expression on her face when she'd came out on their first anniversary to find the whole area covered in yellow rose petals, with Morning Glory Ivy snaking its way around the goal posts.  
  
Her discovering the cushioning charm.  
  
Him discovering that trailing a rose along her skin turned her on.  
  
Both of them laughing and kissing, laying under the sun, after having made love.  
  
The bright red of her face, and of Remus' face, when he'd dropped by the say hello, and found them both, still starkers.  
  
Suddenly the temperature in the house dropped. He instinctively drew his wand, and strode to the front door.  
  
He opened it.  
  
Saw who was there.  
  
And promptly slammed it shut.  
  
A minute later, an insistent knock sounded.  
  
He refused to answer.  
  
The door was blasted open with a well-done "Reducto!"  
  
So, he did the first thing that popped into his head.  
  
Snape hit the porch like a sack of potatoes, and Harry grinned, then shook his hand out.  
  
"Hello, Snape. Repair my door before I reducto you," he said cordially as he put the same hand down to help the Potions Master up.  
  
Snape got to his feet, sneering at Potter. "We've got work to do, Potter. And you need to explain yourself."  
  
Harry matched his sneer with one of his own.  
  
"Contrary to what you believe, I'm not stupid, and I..." He stepped forward, making the greasy-haired Death Eater spy step back.  
  
"Don't." He took another step, and so did Snape.   
  
"Owe." By this time they were almost off the small porch.   
  
"Anyone."  
  
Step.  
  
"A damn."  
  
Step.  
  
"Thing."  
  
They halted, inches from each other.  
  
Snape glared at him. "You really think the Dark Lord is going to believe you turned?"  
  
Harry smirked. "I guess we'll find out if I really turned or not when Dumbledore drops dead, won't we?"  
  
Snape blinked, and the sneer fell from his face, and then he sighed. "I just... Potter, Why?" Curiosity and sadness showed on his face. "After all that's been done."  
  
Green eyes stared at him. "Exactly."  
  
  
  
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Authors Notes: Props to my beta, Jamie!!!Thanks to all those who've reviewed! I really appreciate it. Also, I'm surprised no ones made a connection concerning Hermione. Really, really think about it. Next Chapter dedicated to whoever sees the obvious. Review please??? 


	7. With a Book, With a Look

You know the drill by now, not mine, never mine, never will be mine, and I'm just a li'l stupid struggling writer wanna be, so yeah...and again, italics, someone, help??!!  
  
Btw...this is a key chapter. *drumroll*  
  
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~~3 days later~~  
  
"Peeled shrivelfig," Harry murmured, running his finger down the page as he scanned its properties to reassure himself that it was indeed the one he wanted.   
  
Snape looked up from the potion he had just finished stirring three times counter-clockwise long enough to frown in Potter's direction, wondering what the fool was up to. Lord knows Potions had never been the boy's strong point. This normally would have irritated Snape, but in this case, it was a blessing. He only had to sit back, providing the very minimum of help, to watch Potter mess up horribly. If the potion never got made, then the Headmaster couldn't die...and since he—was—technically helping, he could blame the potion's failures on the scar-headed youngster... His lip curled in a sneer as he turned his eyes back to the potion. /Traitor./ He couldn't believe that everything so many people—including himself—had worked for, was down the drain. Because the one person they never thought would turn, did.  
  
"Crushed daisy petals..." Green eyes lifted from the book to turn and scan over the selection of herbs they had. "Check." Suddenly a thought occurred, and a smile curved Harry's lips. "Snape...would ginger counteract with any of the more...potent...herbs we've already added to the potion?"  
  
"It would ... intensify one or two of them, but I don't see anything adverse coming from it." /Blast it!/ Why did Potter have to ask him questions? Where were his bloody arrogance and over-confidence when Snape actually needed them?  
  
"Mmm...perfect." Against his will, Snape's curiosity was piqued, and he found himself setting the potion aside the moment it was okay, and wandering over to the Boy-Who-Lived's side.  
  
"What are you up to, Potter?"  
  
Harry snorted. "Like you care."  
  
Snape sneered and resisted the urge to draw his wand. "In case you missed the obvious, I am a Potions Master. I have to make sure you don't screw everything up. Besides, the Dark Lord will obviously want full details of this new poison." /And I've got to figure out a way to make sure to get the knowledge of it to Dumbledore./ Just yesterday, he'd been told there was no need for him to remain at Hogwarts (by Voldemort), and so it would be a good deal more…interesting…getting the information to him.  
  
"Mmm, I suppose," the black-haired boy said absently as he turned his attention back to the book of herbs. "We've already discussed the fact that this has to be a new poison, and since there's Merlin-only-knows how many already out there, I'm looking for...I was thinking that the best bet would be to paralyze the Headmaster first...even his Dark Detectors wouldn't pick up something like that, I don't think...Holy h--" His voice went up an octave, and he blushed, hurriedly closing the book and turning to Snape. "I...do...erm...do you think Voldemort will ever expect me to take the Dark Mark?" He hadn't been required to take it yet for the obvious reasons, but no one knew what Voldemort's plans were for the future after Dumbledore died, except for the whole domination kick.  
  
Snape blinked, obviously disconcerted.  
  
Harry smirked inwardly. /Score!/  
  
No more than three seconds had passed before Snape had recovered his wits, though. "You know as much as I do about that, Potter. Now stop wasting my time, and let's get back to the task at hand, if you're capable, that is."  
  
"Yes, sir; as you say, Sir!" Harry gave a mock bow, and turned his attention back to the potion, busying himself with grinding the ginger up until he was sure Snape's attention was sufficiently taken, and then he opened the book again.   
  
His eyes swiftly found the passage.  
  
Death's Door- (class: Fungi) Definitely one of the more powerful, though much lesser-known, plants in this world, Death's Door is in the same Genus as the well-known Gillyweed, but doesn't have the gill-making effect. Instead, it produces a thick mold on the insides of the lungs, which can transmit oxygen to the bloodstream, without the user having to "breathe" standardly.   
  
There are negative side-effects, including death, if the potion to nullify—and destroy—the mold, isn't taken within seventy two hours of ingestion. Also, there can be cases of an over-load of oxygen circulating through the body, which can make the user feel faint, dizzy, and can cause problems sleeping.  
  
For antidote: See page 453 Humdris  
  
"Perfect," Harry said simply, and allowed the faintest traces of a smile to curve his lips.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
/Okay, you can do this. It's no big deal. It's not like Dumbledore has any reason to suspect anything. All you have to do is.../ She didn't finish the thought, but the little voice that had always nagged her had no problem doing it. 'Do what? Lie to the best Headmaster you could have asked for? Betray the Order of the Phoenix, who would give their lives to protect you? Participate in what's most likely going to lead to the death of Professor Lupin?' /SHUT UP!/ She commanded mentally, and when that didn't work, she found herself screaming "SHUT UP!"  
  
In Professer Dumbledore's face, who'd just opened his office door.  
  
Instantly heat crawled up her cheeks, and she gave the headmaster a weak grin. "Ever had that nagging voice that just won't shut up?" she asked hopefully, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her.  
  
"Indeed I have, my dear," he replied, standing to open the door further to let her in. "Particularly when it thinks I've indulged in one too many lemon drops."  
  
The bushy-haired girl found herself smiling a little, as she sank down into the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, and after refusing his customary offer of lemon-drops, plunged in to the task at hand.   
  
"I want to join the Order, Professor." /Smooth, Hermione. Really smooth./  
  
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his lips as he stared at her levelly, considering.  
  
She waited, on the edge of her chair, shifting nervously and trying to hide it.  
  
Finally, appearing to have reached a decision, Dumbledore leaned forward, and after popping another lemon-drop in his mouth, smiled.  
  
"Welcome to the Order, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
She thought for a moment she thought she was going to faint, and couldn't honestly say if it was from relief or consternation. However, with that hurdle out of the way, she managed to gain a better control of herself, and passed the rest of the time talking out details that she needed to know, maintaining a semblance of normalcy...  
  
Which promptly disappeared the moment she managed to get into one of the girl's bathrooms and lock herself in a stall, giving free reign to the trembling and waves of ...shame?...washing over her.   
  
(Reviewer thanks below)A/N: Here's a billowing clue to my question posed in the early chapters author notes. Thanks everyone for the reviews! Please keep reviewing! *hugs* I will return the favor! Also, I know the replies are late, but I just kept forgetting *blush*   
  
Morgane: Thanks for replying, and after all this time, your story is still one of my favorites   
  
Luna the MoonMonster: i've seen a few since I started my story, but none before. Thanks for reviewing!   
  
TexaxJeanette: Thanks for your reviews, they encouraged me :)   
  
Jeannie Vidal-Smith: Thanks much!! As much trouble as parts of this story are giving me *glare this chapter* I needed it!  
  
Jaycee: thank you for your reviews of both this story and my three broomsticks confrontation one! Its appreciateed   
  
Snuggle the muggle: I'm glad you thought it turned out okay! I was so worried! and when i did it, it turns out that it wasn't the hardest part! The hardest was hermione's part *Groans* and I'm still stuck on it! 


	8. Honest Promises, and Lying Love

You know the drill by now, not mine, never mine, never will be mine, and I'm just a li'l stupid struggling writer wanna be, so yeah...and again, HELP!  
  
Btw...this is a key chapter. *drumroll*  
  
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"Look, Hedwig, I know you don't want to, but I need you to!"  
  
Once again, the beautiful snowy-white owl shook her head no.  
  
"Hedwiiiig..." Harry whined. " C'moooon. It's for a good cause!"  
  
Huge amber eyes blinked, and stared at him unnervingly. Then she ruffled her feathers in indignation, before finally reaching toward the small dish of bile-coloured fluid.  
  
Her owner breathed a sigh of relief, and stroked the owl's back with his free hand to help keep her calm as she changed into a rather ugly tan-and-red spotted barn owl, quite a bit larger than her regular size. "Thank you, girl..." he whispered, leaning in to nuzzle her head, only to receive a not-to-tender nip on the nose. "Alright, I deserved that... Look, I promise you all the owl treats you can handle, okay? Just take this letter to Hermione?"  
  
It took a bit more wheedling, but finally Hedwig stuck out a leg, and let Harry tie the letter to her leg.  
  
As soon as Hedwig was out of sight, Harry breathed a sigh and pushed his fingers through his perpetually unkempt hair. Never in a million years, could he have believed that Hermione would have joined Voldemort. And yet...she'd not only joined him, but she was able to cast the cruciatus. That meant she really had to enjoy causing pain? He shook his head. Not Hermione. Not HIS Hermione. She just wasn't like that.  
  
/Heh.../ said his inner-voice. /Looks like you were wrong./ "SHUT UP!!!" Harry yelled, picking up the nearest bottle, and throwing it against the wall, where it thudded to the floor.  
  
"What's this, Potter? You can't even properly throw a tantrum?" Came a silky smooth voice from the doorway. Rage burned in Harry, and with his Seeker reflexes, he snatched another bottle—this one containing the rest of the mixture he'd made to give Hedwig—and threw it at Snape. It connected with the Potion Master's perpetually frowning forehead, and Snape rocked back on his heels, almost going down.  
  
"I know I have a temper, you greasy-haired git! That's why all the glassware in my house have UNBREAKABLE charms on them, or are you too BLOODY stupid about anything other than your precious potions to figure that out?"  
  
Snape, by now, had his wand in his hand, and had already cast a charm to get rid of the ache left by the bottle, and now that wand was pointed straight at Harry. "You impertinent whelp!" he bit out, stalking towards Harry, cloak flying out behind him. "I don't know what you're playing at, Potter, but just let me remind you of one thing. You're a Death Eater now. You're everything you've ever accused me of being, and LOWER, because I've never pretended to be some goody two shoes, let alone played at being the boy-hero to the whole of the wizarding world. When Albus finds out about thi--"  
  
"Good Lord, You really think I'm going to give you a chance to leak any information to him?" Harry arched a skeptical eyebrow, as he twirled his own wand, which he'd slowly drawn, around his fingers.  
  
Snape sneered. "Try and stop me, Potter."  
  
"I'll think about it..." Harry retorted cooly, before turning his attention to the cauldron that was over a low flame. "We need to add the Foxglove leaf, and three pinches of honey-bee eyes, and...." He paused, looking down at the ingredients he had listed on a parchment that was stuck to the table with a temporary sticking charm. He could feel Snape's eyes on him, and so, without looking up, said, "Do I have to tell Voldemort that you're not doing what you were assigned to do? Because believe me, I'd do so with the greatest pleasure..." It was all said in a toneless, matter-of-fact way, that it had Snape at his side within the minute, still glaring daggers at him.  
  
"I will find out what game you're playing, Potter," Severus said in his most intimidating tone as he added the carefully shredded foxglove to the cauldron.  
  
"Of that, I have no doubt, Snape. Otherwise you'd probably already be dead." Harry raised his head up, meeting Snape's eyes, honesty coming through. A frown creased the Potion Master's brow, and he tried to perform Legilimency, but as soon as Harry felt the probing, he broke eye contact and shook his head. "Such a naughty Slytherin," he said lightly, and then turned his full attention back to the potion.  
  
The two of them worked in a silence that was so tense at first that you could have cut it with a knife, but gradually, it lessened, as the task at hand overtook the both of them, and excitement grew, merely for the fact that they were trying to make something new, something no one else had. What they were actually attempting to make, was something different in both of the male's minds, but Harry wasn't willing to reveal that fact. He was rather surprised that Snape was actually helping him today, rather than just mainly sitting back and watching. /It must have been my little threat to tell Voldemort./ he thought to himself, and grinned a little.  
  
Snape, however, in the gradual peace, was going over in his head all the ingredients that he knew they'd added to the potion so far. Some of them were commonly known to be dangerous, but some of them...just mystified him. He knew, from observing Potter quietly, that the boy did have a bit more experience, so he was willing to believe that he knew at least a bit about what he was doing, but there was no faith in the Golden Boy. /Probably just winging it.../ Snape thought to himself as he picked up the crushed beetle legs and added them in, stirring three and a half times, counter clock-wise.   
  
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/The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are located at #12 Grimmauld Place./ A bushy-haired, slim girl concentrated hard on the thought, and then tentatively opened one eye a crack to stare as the house between Numbers 11 and 13 began to expand, pushing and shoving those two out of the way until it was fully unfolded. She stepped up to the front door, swallowed hard, and rubbed her sweaty palms on her dark purple robes. /You can do this.../ she told herself again, and then raised her hand, grasping the door-knocker and rapping solidly three times.   
  
The door was opened quickly, but she found herself at the end of Molly Weasely's wand. "It's me, Mrs. Weasely!" she said quickly, eyes crossed as she stared at the tip of the wand.   
  
It was amazing, really, how fast Molly Weasley could put away her wand and wrap one in the type hug only a parent can give.   
  
Hermione gasped for breath after a moment, having returned the hug fiercely. "Mrs. Weasly...turning...blue.."   
  
Immediately she was released, and beckoned inside. After the door was securely locked, Molly, the red-headed mother of seven, turned and pointed toward the drawing room. "The meeting is in there, as usual, dear." Hermione nodded and walked toward the door, her head held high, and when she opened it, peeking around, chaos erupted, but totally of the good sort. Various members of the Weasley family rose from their chairs, coming over to hug her, or give her a pat on the back. Remus rose and pulled out her chair, giving her a weak, tired smile. She smiled back and sat down, looking around. They'd added some new members since she last had seen them.  
  
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted her thoughts.  
  
She turned towards the sound, and Dumbledore smiled at her, before addressing the rest of the group. "As you can see, we have a new Order member, Mrs. Hermione Weasely." Several of the Weaselys pounded on the table and applauded, causing the girl in question to blush and duck her head. "Now, Alastor, if you would please check her over? Just in case?"  
  
"Certainly, Albus." The scarred, wooden-legged ex-Auror said, and whipped his wand out, pointing it at Hermione.  
  
She gulped, thinking she was going to be exposed two minutes into the meeting, if that.  
  
"Finite Incantetum!" He ground out the spell, and when nothing happened, turned to look at Dumbledore. "She's good."  
  
"Very good. Mrs...uh, Hermione, to make things a bit easier, tell me, what piece of equipment allowed you to sneak around the halls with Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Harry's invisibility cloak, Sir," she answered easily, and felt the first signs of a gentle probing in her mind. Quickly she redirected memories of her schooldays to the front, and after a second, Dumbledore nodded his head, eyes twinkling. /Thank God I've practiced Occlumency./  
  
"Now, let's get this meeting under way, shall we?" He turned to Alastor, also known as Mad-Eye Moody, so named for his magical all-seeing fake eye. "Has there been any news of Severus?"   
  
Mad-Eye shook his head. "Not seen hide nor hair of him, Dumbledore. I expect Voldemort's got him whipping up potions left and right." A look of concern entered the Headmaster's bright blue eyes, but he nodded.   
  
"Most likely, you are right; however, if he does not show soon, we'll have to see about locating him. Minerva, how's recruitment going?" And so the meeting went, news being shared for a good hour before they turned their attention towards something that she could report on without fear of being tortured. "Now, last we heard, from Severus, there were indications from Voldemort that he was planning on attacking Diagon Alley. We can only assume that that is still the plan, as per his disappearance, so...how many Aurors from the Ministry can we depend on?"   
  
As the talk went on, Hermione listened closely, making mental notes, and occasionally suggesting things, or speaking up with bits of facts she'd read about the area. This lasted for another half-hour, and then the meeting was dismissed, and everyone congregated to the kitchen, where a house-elf brought from Hogwarts had just finished whipping up food for the lot of them.   
  
They all looked anxiously at Hermione when she spotted the house-elf which hadn't been in Grimmauld Place last time she'd visited. It was well known that she hated the idea of creatures working under enslavement, as Ron and Harry could well tell you from their days of schooling when they'd had to put up with her "S.P.E.W" campaign, which she'd thankfully dropped. Hermione didn't say anything, though, but settled for speaking kindly to the elf, and settling down to eat.   
  
There was a collective sigh of relief, and she looked up with curiosity written on her face. "What was that about??"   
  
Remus Lupin grinned. "Nothing much, Hermione."   
  
She narrowed her eyes, sure she'd missed something, but all of them looked at her with perfectly innocent faces, so she shoved it aside, and spent the remaining time she was at Grimmauld Place catching up with people she'd not seen in at least a month, and some even longer than that. For that short amount of time, she managed to push back everything, and just concentrated on having fun.   
  
It was with a heavy heart that she left the Order's Headquarters, and Apparated back to her home, knowing that she needed to get to work on what Dumbledore had assigned her. But first she took a few moments to scribble down the mental notes she'd kept on the meeting, and then hid the journal away, guilt eating at her.   
  
Sorry it's been so long since my last update! I was horribly writers blocked! I dont even like this chapter *sighs* thanks to all my reviewers! Please continue to read, and be patient :) 


	9. Unloyally Loyal, My Sweet Mr Dolver

A/N: I loves my beta! *nod me* Anyways, this chapter answers some questions that y'all've had about Hermione *grin* please tell me if you see anythign that doesnt make sense, or whatnot, and I will try to explain :) but I cant explain if you dont tell me!**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
The next morning found Hermione at her writing desk, scratching furiously with her quill in the journal she'd faithfully kept, and hid. It was so important to her that she had put the object under a modified Fidelius Charm. Important, because she was one of those who wrote absolutely everything in her diary. It was a way of getting her emotions and thoughts out without having to reveal anything to someone who would judge her. Today, tears trickled down her cheeks as she wrote.  
  
**March 4,  
  
I had so many bad dreams last night. All revolving around Harry and Voldemort. Since joining the Death Eaters, I've accepted the fact that, should I ever be discovered--and its almost certain that I will, for dumbledore finds out everything somehow or another--that I shall be termed a traitor, and most likely be put in Azkaban for life. Most likely without a trial, much like Harry's godfather, Sirius. It's what I deserve. I know I've talked about this before, and I guess in a way I'm trying to justify my actions. After all, I did go from being the best friend of the Hero of the side of Light, to being a Death Eater, who successfully put said person under the cruciatus. Although, it wasn't because I enjoyed causing him pain. It didn't take much to figure out that there was a way to cast the spell without really wanting to cause harm to the other person; it just has to be done for a purpose, is really all there is to it. What purpose, doesn't necessarily matter. I hated doing that to him, and I HATE VOLDEMORT FOR MAKING ME DO THAT TO HIM!!!! I wish...like I've wished so many times before, that I'd never made the mistake of joining Voldemort. I can't believe I allowed him to sway me to him.**  
  
Here she paused, putting down the quill and leaning back in her chair, rubbing at her temples as she let the tears flow, and thought back to the turning point in her life.  
  
It had been just after she'd graduated from Hogwarts; she and Ron had just been married. Things had been going great for them, and she'd been submitting job applications to practically everywhere that had anything to do with knowledge and learning. In the meantime, she was working part-time at Flourish and Blotts. The pay wasn't great, but she loved it, mainly for the discount she got as an employee on buying books. That morning, she'd been spending time indulging in a good book before she reported to work, when everything began.  
  
Hermione looked up from her book, The Rise and Fall of Grindewalde, when she heard a soft tapping at her window. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of positively the most beautiful owl she'd ever seen, and one of the largest. Quickly she got to her feet, laying the book down on the living room table, and opened the window, allowing the creature in. It flew right over to the transfigured iron perch that she'd made for mail owls to rest on while she and Ron wrote replies, since their own, a beautiful spotted eagle owl, was often off delivering applications for her. She was alone in the house, Ron having to report early each morning (something that he positively loathed) for Auror training (which he was excited about; it was something Harry and He had both worked hard for), and enjoying the peace and quiet. As they got owls quite often, she had no suspicions when she reach out to the owl's proffered leg, and untied the letter. Accio-ing an owl treat and giving it to the noble creature, she broke the seal on the letter as she headed back over to her seat, and sat down. It was short, simple, and extremely interesting.  
  
To: Mrs. Hermione Weasely  
  
Greetings,  
  
Through an associate, I have learned of the fact that you're looking for a job that requires much mental exercise. I was told you were quite the studious girl while attending Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, if my associate was correct? Anyway, I digress. I am a private employer, that does much research into various subjects, from the Dark Arts (only through knowing much about them, can you take care of yourself in a duel, by knowing what curse was thrown, and the counter curse, I believe) to historical battles and strategies.  
  
After talking to a few persons, I am willing to offer you what some would term "the opportunity of a life time." Employment under me, as head of my research team, a very suitable wage, and access to my library, which although few know of its true size, is three times the size of the one in Hogwarts, with absolutely no restrictions in what you can look up, unlike the Hogwarts library.  
  
However, I am afraid there are a few conditions: Absolute secrecy. My name cannot be divulged to anyone, even your spouse. I am a very private person. An oath of loyalty, that once you take up this position, unless I release you from the contract, you cannot go to work for anyone else. You also must be willing to do as asked, for sometimes I need the services of someone I can count on.  
  
This letter is a portkey. It will activate exactly 15 minutes after 11:00. Please take the time until then to consider, for this is no matter to be decided lightly.  
  
Sincerely,   
  
Tom Dolver  
  
She glanced at her muggle watch. Fifteen till eleven. She had a half hour to consider the offer. She already had a strong suspicion of what her answer would be. The thought of full access to a library that big, made her mentally drool. Not having to work under anyone was also a very good thing for the opinionated Gryffindor, and the "Suitable Wage" sounded quite promising. There were only the conditions to consider. Something about it nagged at her a bit, but she decided she was just being foolish. Secrecy was understandable, especially after seeing the way people reacted to fame, fortune, and other various things. The loyalty was also understandable, for this way she wouldn't leave for something different in the middle of a project, among other things. All in all, it sounded very doable. Just to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she read over it again, and her mind was made up. She sat there, staring off into space for a moment, before it hit her. She had a job!!  
  
Jumping to her feet, she ran upstairs, into the master bedroom and began rifling through her clothes, discarding outfits as soon as she picked them up for the most part. What would make the best impression? She wondered anxiously. Should she wear a skirt and shirt alone? Or wear robes with it? Robes would be professional, she finally decided, and after pulling out a white button-up shirt, and a plaid knee-length skirt, she found her best "working" set of robes: deep red, with a severe line to them. Once dressed, she dashed into the bathroom, and began to brush out her bushy hair yet again that day, and pulled it back in a tight braid. Then--a rarity for her--she pulled out the small vanity kit that Lavender had given her for an eighteenth birthday present, and smoothed on just a touch of toupe eyeshadow, and lip gloss.  
  
She glanced at her watch then, and gave a shriek, before racing downstairs. Five minutes till 11:15! Where had the time gone?! Plopping down in her chair, she magically summoned her shoes to her, and slipped them on, and spent the remaining time breathing deeply and calming herself. It was with a perfectly natural sense of anticipation that she held onto the letter when there was thirty seconds left.  
  
Suddenly, she felt the jerk around her navel, and closed her eyes tightly as she was pulled to her destination. She stumbled upon arriving, and looked around the library setting with awe. This was the type of place she was truly at home in.  
  
There was a discreet cough behind her, and she whirled around, then sank into an awkward curtsey at the sight of what she assumed was her employer. Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later when the tall black-haired man inclined his head toward her and said. "Hello, I am Mr. Dolver. I'm glad you've decided to accept the job offer. Please, walk with me, so that I can show you where your office will be?" His voice was smooth, cultured, and he carried himself with a very sure manner, much like that of an aristocrat. She was delighted, thinking she was glad she'd accepted the job.  
  
From there, they'd developed a good relationship, with him welcoming her confidences, and telling her a bit about himself, but like he'd said in his letter, he was a private person.  
  
She shook her head, unable to believe that she'd been such an idiot. "Tom Dolver." She snorted. "I should have figured out it was an anagram for Voldemort right off." But by the time she had, Voldemort had already thoroughly entrenched himself in her life, becoming someone she confided in more than even Harry or Ginny. It was a subtle enchantment, made purely with the power of words, and it was one she felt she'd never escape from. Even now, hating him, having had to kill Ginny, to torture Harry, she knew she didn't possess the strength to break away from him. Only one thing could free her from his influence completely, and that dried the tears in her eyes as she picked up the quill and began to write again.  
  
**It doesn't matter though. We each have things to deal with, and this is mine. Maybe one day, when Harry kills-**  
  
Here she stopped, and scratched out her words.  
  
**Maybe one day, somehow, someone will kill Voldemort. Then I'll be free. I just hope that it's Harry that kills him. I can't stomach the thought of Harry turning against the Light, and I don't blame him for it. He's been used by practically everyone, abused mentally by his aunt and uncle and physically by his cousin. There haven't been a whole lot of reasons in his life for him to want to be the hero of the wizarding world. The hero of any world. I feel so sorry for him, but at the same time, I admire him just for surviving. I also desire him. I've made no secret of that fact to you, journal. I hope he can understand that I couldn't say no to Voldemort.**  
  
She stopped again, as she became aware of a tapping at the window. She frowned, not recognizing the owl, and although she raised the window to let the bird in, she regarded it warily. Pushing back a lock of her bushy hair, Hermione stepped close enough that she could make out the handwriting on the outside of the letter, and sighed in relief. It was just Harry. "I wonder why he's not using Hedwig?" she said aloud, and jumped when the owl trilled at her. The owl's voice sounded familiar, and Hermione blinked. "Hedwig?" she asked, curious. The owl hooted in acknowledgment, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her lips. "He's becoming quite clever, isn't he, girl?" She reached for the letter, and showed Hedwig the bowl of water and owl treats she'd placed near the perch. "There you go, girl. I'll send a letter back with you if you don't mind." She stroked the owl's head softly, and then headed over to her favorite chair to read the letter that Harry had sent.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
Why? You've not lost anyone close to you, it didn't seem like you've been broken like I have...so why? Why'd you turn away from the Light side? What caused it? Please tell me. I was so shocked when I saw you, and now that I think about it, I believe that's what Voldemort was laughing about when he was talking to me through our scar shortly before I joined him.  
  
I know I could have written sooner, but I just couldn't. I needed to think, and plus I was trying to put together this potion. Snape has NOT been a big help. He mainly just sits back and sneers, and does small things like stir it when I ask . . . well actually, tell him to.  
  
I joined the Death Eaters for more reasons than just the obvious. I believe I'm doing the right thing. It feels right, even if it's not right to the rest of the world. Does that make sense? All I know is I want to do things MY way, not be manipulated by Dumbledore.  
  
You wouldn't believe what I've done to Snape. In the past week, I've decked him, and hit him with a bottle. (Right in the middle of the forehead!) He looked positively murderous. It would have been hilarious if I wasn't in such a bad mood at the time. Will he never learn, that especially now, I have no problems with hexing him until Hell freezes over?  
  
We need to talk. Desperately. Face to face. Please. When can you meet me?  
  
Love,  
  
Harry  
  
Hermione laid the letter on her lap, and rubbed at her face with her hands. Guilt was threatening to overwhelm her; however, it was countered by righteous indignation. HE was asking her why she'd joined Voldemort? Acting like she had NO reasons? /Well, you have no truly logical ones,/ a voice in her head reminded her, and the anger faded as quickly as it came. It was true; she really had no truly good reasons for joining Voldemort. She was just weak. The bravery that Gryffindors were supposed to have just wasn't in her. She should have been a Ravenclaw.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted when the Dark Mark on her arm began to burn, and she quickly rose to her feet, tossing the letter in the fireplace, and rushing upstairs to slip on her robes and grabbing her Death Eaters' mask. As soon as she was downstairs, and outside the apparition ward around their home, she slipped on the mask and Disapparated, hoping for the best.  
  
*************************************************************************************  
  
Harry dropped the spoon he was stirring the spoon he was stirring the potion with as the connection he had with Voldemort sprang into liveliness, and began to burn with such an intensity that it brought him to his knees, very nearly spilling the yet unfinished potion on himself. Come to me, my little traitor. It is time for you to meet again with your peers. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out, and sent back a pain filled. Yes, milord. Then he heard that fanatical, chilling laugh that Voldemort had, and the connection was eased.  
  
Breathing hard, Harry got to his feet, and looked over at Professor Snape, who was clutching his arm and hissing from between clenched teeth. "You'll have to take me with you," Harry said quietly, moving over to stand besides the potion master. "I can't blind Apparate through the mark, because of the obvious reason." With that--though he was ever reluctant to touch Snape--he laid a hand on his arm, and prepared for the Disapparation. His robes were black, so he had no need to change, and he hadn't been given a mask; apparently Voldemort wanted everyone to be able to see his ultimate triumph.  
  
With his wand, Snape called his Death Eaters' mask, which was laying across the room, to himand slipped it on. Then with a pop, he Disapparated himself and Potter.  
  
********************************************************************************************  
  
  
  
He smiled, bringing his hand away from his own arm. And let a small smile cross his lips. Pops sounded all over as his Death Eaters appeared close to hand. He watched them come, first one, then many. He stood, waiting for them to drop to the ground. Knowing they would. Knowing that they had better. His red eyes triumphant. Bellatrix wasn't quick enough to drop to her knees, he noticed. With a movement of his wand "CRUCIO!" Almost spitting the words. The woman didn't scream; she paled, dropping to her knee's instantly, words slipping out, "I'm sorry milord...I'm sorry...it won't happen again." He straightened, dropping the spell, only to look around at the figures near him. Unnerving them with his eyes. "It seems…we have a traitor to me in our midst..." the words filling the dead silence...  
  
Snape went cold inside, but he allowed no outward signs of emotion to show, even though his face was covered by the Death Eater mask. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, accepting that he'd been found out, and would be killed. A sense of calm filled him. His life would finally be over. No more deceptions, no more being alone....no more Potter to put up with. He had no doubt that he would not be allowed into Heaven; after all, only the truly good, and idiotically brave--like Harry's father--were probably afforded that privilege.  
  
He risked the smallest movement of his head to bring Harry into his peripheral vision, and blinked. It appeared that Harry was truly enjoying himself, at the thought of a traitor being in the midst of them, or maybe was waiting eagerly for the punishment to come to whoever it was. /No wonder,/ Snape thought to himself. /Potter knows I'm the traitor, and Merlin knows the boy hates me./ It was in that moment that he felt a slight tug of regret, wondering if he was one of the people that had driven Harry to the Dark. During the school years, Harry had been so adamantly Light, but now... It was all Snape could do to repress a shiver at the thought of Harry and Voldemort joining forces.  
  
Terror would be unleashed upon every person in the world, only Death Eaters would be spared. The image of a dead Dumbledore flashed through Severus' mind, along with a picture of a dead Minerva McGonagal, and a handful of others, who were the only people he really had any respect for. It was then that he knew that if by any chance he did survive this meeting . . . Harry Potter would have to be killed.  
  
Hermione flushed under her mask, and barely resisted the urge to squirm. She wasn't a traitor, she told herself fiercely. She was under Voldemort's spell. He controlled her just as much, if not better than, the Imperious course. She would never betray him. These thoughts however, didn't stop the hot guilty feeling that spread through her until she stopped it by firmly placing her Occulmency shield in place. She glanced at Harry who was straight across from her, and swallowed hard at the sight of her friend's almost maniacally happy-looking face.  
  
He turned, walking down among his "loyal" Death Eeaters. His red eyes so cold they were like ice. His footsteps sounded almost unnaturally heavy. Not that he stomped. Merely his force of presence was enough to send chills down the most loyal Death Eater's back. He came to a halt in front of Hermione. "Weasley, do you have any actual information for me this time?" His words were smooth. "I grow weary of the promises...of information." His eyes centering on her; he looked across the area towards Potter, a smile dropping to his place. But he let his gaze drop back down to the woman before him. Waiting for her to speak.  
  
Hermione swallowed and dropped into a graceful curtsey before looking at him and saying. "Yes, my lord. They do not suspect anything of me, and welcomed me whole heartedly into the recent Order meeting. They, for some reason, suspect that you're up to something, and I don't know how they got the information, but they know about the attack you're planning. They don't know the specifics, but they've double Auror's in the area, and consider themselves quite well-prepared. Two Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, are heading up the team of Aurors." Hermione didn't disclose any other names, and sent up a silent "I'm sorry" to the heavens for possibly condemning two people to death, but she had no choice, and she'd picked the people she knew were most likely to be able to defend themselves. "Also, my Lord, there has been discussion of trying to get the Dragons on our side. I believe one of the members has a dragon or draconian animagus and plans on using their ability to help convert the dragons." It was an outright lie, and smoothly said, but if Voldemort were to look in her mind, he would see only what she wanted to see. Occulmency was such a gift.  
  
  
  
Voldemort nodded. "Very good, mudblood. You're turning into an even better spy than I first presumed; the information will be most useful." He actually smiled at her. Then walked back to the center of his "little" group. He reached out a hand towards Harry. "Harry...come here...I have a pleasing task for you..." his words turning almost oily. Viperous, one might have said. "I'm sure you will like it." His tone filled with hatred. He waited for the "boy wonder" to make his way to his side.   
  
  
  
Harry had seen the smile that crossed Voldemort's face when he was talking to Hermione, and he was filled with dread. Hermione might have been able to put the Cruciatus on him, to wish him harm for some reason, but he knew he could never do it to her. /What's he planning?/ he asked himself silently even as he was walking smoothly to Voldemort's side and executed a bow, filing back Hermione's unbelievable actions for later examinations. "Yes, milord?" Harry asked, his tone just as oily, although not quite as venomous as Voldemort's. "What would you have me do?"  
  
Voldemort nodded when Harry bowed to him. He turned away for a moment, looking at his other loyal Death Eaters. "Bring me Snape!" His words were a bellow. "Bring him before me!" The words so hatred-filled that it was like a soft noise, a pin drop in an empty arena. He watched as Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards the man. Lucius reached forwards. Pushing Snape towards the Potter brat and his lord. Incidentally, shoving him towards the ground as well. Bellatrix couldn't keep the grin off her face. So it was finally the idiotic Potion Master's turn . . . she couldn't help but feel elated.  
  
Snape swallowed hard, but was determined to go to his death with dignity, so when Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards him, he stepped forward smoothly with the pushes, and with his usual grace, managed to keep from falling when one of them shoved him. In front of Voldemort, inclined his head in a bow, and then looked towards Harry, thinking that it was ironic that he was going to meet his death at the hands of the golden boy himself.  
  
Voldemort sneered at the form of the Hogwarts Potion Master before them. "Harry…you may have the honor of using the Cruciatus on your...former Potions Master." The laugh that came following that was harsh, cold, so cold, that it was like ice crawling up one's spine, or the dreaded chill that can cover a body only in death. Voldemort watched; this was the boy's test, to see if he could harm one of his "beloved" teachers. His eyes shown with amusement. It would be interesting to see if the boy could actually pull it off. "Pour out your hatred, Harry; pour out your anger at him. Put it all into your power as you use it to cause him pain..."  
  
Harry steeled himself for his task ahead; he'd gone into this knowing that torturing people was part of the job. So he didn't even appear to hesitate as he nodded. "Yes, milord. Thank you for this honour." When he looked at Snape, there was no hatred, but instead pity. It made Snape frown, wondering why in the world Potter would be pitying him, and at the same time brought anger to the surface. He'd not even scream under the brat's curse, if he could even pull it off. Slipping his wand from its holster, Harry pointed the tip of it straight at Snape, and his lips quirked just slightly before he shouted, "CRUCIO!!" Forcing himself to think of every time Snape had humiliated him in class, and outside of class, of every time Snape had tried to break him. It worked, because Snape hit the ground, writhing in obvious pain, but not quite screaming. Harry held the curse for a good half minute, to make sure Voldemort would be pleased before he lifted the curse, and contemptuously spat on Snape.  
  
Voldemort shook his head. "Harry . . . Harry . . . Harry . . . Did I tell you to remove it? Again . . . and break it only if I tell you to do so . . . " The man smiled, a full minute wasn't enough to find it out for sure, for he was a man now, back because of this child beside him. A child who could serve him oh so well. He watched, waiting until he did it again. "You must learn, Harry...when Voldemort tells you to do something, not to do it only partway..."  
  
  
  
Harry mentally rolled his eyes, but responded. "So sorry, milord. I still have so much to learn about how to please you." And with that, he cried out the curse again, but this time it was not the memories of Snape that caused sufficient hate for the curse to torture Snape; instead it was Harry's hatred of Voldemort, which was rather much a revelation to Harry, as he had not known for sure that it would work like that. Snape fully expected that Voldemort would have Harry hold him under the curse until he died or went crazy, and that Harry would enjoy it, so needless to say it was a surprise when the curse him but with less than half the force that the first one did. However, if there was a chance of him getting out of this alive, he couldn't let them know that, so he dug his fingers into his palms until he felt blood, and moved himself in the contortions that signaled the greatest of pain.  
  
  
  
Finally, after minutes passed with Snape squirming before them, Voldemort held up a hand. "Enough . . . " knowing the boy would drop it immediately, he wasn't comfortable enough with it yet, but the power was there, seeing the squirming Severus Snape. "Enough..." Voldemort walked forwards, standing next to Snape. Even crouching down so he could look in the man's eyes. "So...you are loyal to me, Severus...that is good to know." He walked away from the man. "This . . . this is what Lord Voldemort asks for!" He walked among the others. "A loyal Death Eater! One that does not waste my time with foolish protestations of innocence, but instead lets his loyalty be proven!!" He walked quickly among them. "But now, I know who the traitor is…I know..." He turned, walking back towards Snape and Potter. Then turned...pointing his wand at Crabbe, Sr. "Crucio."   
  
The word, gentle as a kiss, obviously enjoyed as it hit the man, who fell to the ground screaming. "You thought you could turn traitor on me, Crabbe. Thought you could trick me into killing one of my most loyal death eaters! I didn't want to believe you when you told me Snape was a traitor...covering your own tracks, Crabbe!" The man shook his head. "Inflamarim." A flare of red flew from the tip of his wand, and the man started to burn alive. "This is what happens when I find traitors in my midst!" In a flurry he turned, "And those, like Severus, who prove themselves loyal, will be richly rewarded." The screams of the burning Crabbe where overwhelming. "AVADA KEDAVRA!!" He said the word in a voice that would not be denied. A voice that knew power, and took it as his own. Crabbe, Sr. fell to the ground, dead as a doornail. While the "traitor's" corpse was still burning, Voldemort looked around, his eyes catching as many eyes as he could. "Get out of my sight...all of you..." Before stalking away...  
  
Harry did immediately stop the curse, and lifted his head, cold eyes looking around the circle of Death Eaters, daring them to say something to him for not appearing to immensely enjoy the curse. He forced a smile to his lips when Severus was declared loyal, and Voldemort walked away, but couldn't help but blink in surprise at the idea of anyone thinking that Crabbe, Sr. could be a traitor. He looked too much like the no brain thug that his son was. An urge to gag almost caused him to violently lose his breakfast as his nose caught the scent of burning flesh, but he held it in, although he, like several of the Death Eaters, including Hermione, had gone quite pale, and green around the gills, as the expression was. It was with much relief that Harry laid a hand on the slightly shaking shoulder of Severus, and Apparated them both back to his house.  
  
Hermione, however, could not Apparate immediately. Her stomach was churning, and the sight of the dead body had brought back images of killing Ginny Weasley. It was all she could do to calmly walk until she reach the shelter of the trees, and then threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach, before Apparating to outside the wards at her home.*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
AN: Another one bites the dust! heheeh, please review, i only got two for the last chapter :( talk about lack of motivation if you think no ones reading  
  
Review Responses:  
  
Erise: Your mantra needs to be "Different is good, Different is Good." *grin* Thanks for reviewing hon!  
  
Texasjeanette: You never did email me back on the chapters i sent you, so i had to get another beta, sorry. I hope this answered your questions about hermione! Thanks for reviewing! 


	10. Blowing up those Odd Balloons

AN: Not mine, Never was, Never Will be. Poor white girl playing with someone else's toys. Only plot is mine. Props ta mah beta! Who also came up with two main prank items mentioned in this story!*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
"Hello? Harry, dear?" The voice of Molly Weasley, magically amplified, echoed through the house, entering the bedroom where Harry was sprawled over the bed, and bringing him to reluctant awareness. "Harry dear? This is Molly. Are you there?"  
  
  
  
"Argh…" Opening sleep-crusted green eyes, the slender young man pushed himself upright in the bed, and threw back the covers, yelling out. "Coming, Mrs. Weasley!"  
  
  
  
"Alright dear…Take your time," Molly's voice returned, and Harry, scratching at his chest, wandered over to the huge oak wardrobe to take out a long red tunic, and slip it on. /What's she want?/ he grumbled mentally, being definitely not a morning person, as he knew she knew. Not bothering to locate his house slippers, he padded out of the bedroom and into the living room, where the only floo connection in the house was located.  
  
"H'lo, Mrs. Weasley," he mumbled, running a hand through his rats-nest hair and flopping down on the thick rug in front of the fire strategically placed there for just this purpose. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Oh no, dear. It's just…well, we've been missing you. Arthur and I—along with the children—would like you to come over to the house today…" The older woman's voice was soft and sympathetic, her eyes showing motherly concern for the one who'd practically been adopted by her from that first summer. "If you're not terribly busy?"  
  
Harry lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead, wishing he'd thought to grab his glasses. "No, nothing pressing." He didn't really want to go, as he knew it would bring back memories he was constantly working his hardest to suppress. Memories of laughing brown eyes, and the teasing both he and Ginny had good-naturedly endured every time they'd visited. However, he couldn't resist the woman who'd become a second mother to him. "I'll come by…" He lifted his eyes, squinting at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was before noon, he could tell that much. "Uhm, how about I come over in…an hour? It'll give me time to fix something to eat and s—"  
  
"Harry Potter! You know good and well I'll feed you here." Molly looked vaguely affronted and Harry ducked his head. Obviously excuses weren't going to work.   
  
"Alright, just let me get dressed and I'll floo through, if that's okay?"   
  
She smiled. "That's perfect dear, see you soon. Love you."  
  
He blushed.  
  
"Love you too, Mrs. Weasley," he mumbled and after one last smile, she disappeared to get breakfast ready, and Harry trudged back toward his bedroom, grabbing clothes for the day and heading into the en-suite bathroom.  
  
After taking a thoroughly far-too long bath in the huge tub, Harry reluctantly drained the water and got dressed in Muggle jeans and a polo shirt, deciding not to worry about dressing up in his robes. The day was too nice, and he just didn't particularly care to boot. The robes were nice and all, but sometimes it just got too bloody hot. Pausing in the bathroom doorway, he remembered suddenly where he left his glasses, and headed over to the bed, scooping up the black frames and slipping them on. Instantly everything came in to sharp detail around him, and he sighed in relief, but froze when his eyes fell upon a stack of books laying on top of the small, but full-to-the-bursting, bookshelf Ginny had put along the wall on her side of the bed. "What the—?" Skirting the bed, he wandered over to the bookshelf and picked up the small pile, and looked them over. At the title of the second book—the one dealing with easy-make, easy-bake meals—recognition flooded through him: these were the books he'd gotten at his last trip to Diagon Alley. /But how'd they get over there?/ he questioned mentally. The last time he'd seen them, they'd been in the bag he'd gotten, and that bag had been dropped beside his favorite chair in the living room. "Strange…"  
  
Shrugging it off, he tucked the books under one arm and headed into the living room, placing them down on the seat of the violently purple chair that been a gift from Tonks when he and Ginny had got married, and found a place in his affections. Especially his rump's affections. The thing was comfortable beyond all belief. Curious, he looked to the side of the chair, for the book-bag, and sure enough, it was gone. /Something very weird is going on…/ he thought to himself, and decided to investigate it as soon as he came back from the Weasleys. It wasn't particularly worrying, which was even stranger. /But then again…if it was something dangerous going on, something would have happened besides just the books moving./  
  
Slipping his wand from the wrist holster he'd procured, he summoned a piece of parchment, and a pre-inked quill—a recent invention much like a muggle pen—which he had to duck as it came hurtling towards him, sharp end first. He snorted as he dug it out of the back of the chair, and chuckled ruefully. /You'd think after all this time I'd have perfect control of my magic./ Sitting on the edge of the chair to avoid the books he'd placed on it, he placed the parchment on his knee and scratched out a note informing Snape that he would not be around for most likely the rest of the day, and that the potion was still in a simmer stage, which it had to go through for three days before anything else could be done. This he sent with a lazy wave of his wand to the front door, after enchanting it so it would only appear to the one that was meant to read it.  
  
Then he could put it off no longer. Rising to his feet, putting his wand back in the holster, and laying down the quill, he got a pinch of floo powder from the brightly coloured jar on the mantle, and threw it into the flames. He stepped in as soon as they turned green, and being careful not to breathe in at all, shouted "The Burrow!" and disappeared.  
  
Seconds later he nearly fell face first, as the fire spat him out.  
  
The owner of the hands that had caught him just in time gave a deep chuckle, and began to pat at the soot on his clothes. "You know, mate, you're the only person I know—other than Tonks—that is still that clumsy coming through the floo."  
  
Harry's eyes widened. "Oh hell…" he breathed. /Shit! Shit! Shit!/ Ron was here. Ron was HERE. Ron WAS here. This wasn't good. How could he face him? Knowing what he did? /You don't know anything for sure yet…/ A little voice reminded him. /Oh really? I don't know that Hermione joined Voldemort?/ he retorted mentally.  
  
The little voice fell silent.  
  
"…bad, I know." Ron had finished saying something, and Harry looked at him, settling on a non-commital nod, hoping that it would work. "So mate, how've you been?" The red-head asked as he threw an arm companionably around his best friend's shoulders.  
  
"Smooth, Ronniekins. Smooth," came the jovial voice of Fred. Or at least Harry thought it was Fred. It could very well have been George. The two acted and looked so much alike that they could even confuse their mother at times. Harry glanced at Ron as he drew his arm away, and took in the bright red tips of his ears. A shade so red, that like the hair, it was a uniquely Weasley feature.  
  
"Sorry…" Ron muttered awkwardly, and Harry gave him a slight smile, opening his mouth to tell him it was okay. He never got the chance, however.  
  
"So, Harrykins!" Fred said, grabbing hold of one of Harry's arms by the elbow.  
  
"We've been…" George grabbed hold of Harry's other elbow.  
  
"Working quite hard. We thought…"  
  
"that as our chief investor…"  
  
"and descendant of one of the most high…  
  
"Prankster of all Pranksters…"  
  
"the Mauraders…you should be kept abreast…  
  
"or achest!" One of the twins snickered. "Unless there's something you've not been telling us…"  
  
"of our recent inventions!" Harry oomphed as he was pushed down into a chair in the yard unceremoniously, and couldn't help but grin as a bright red bag was plopped on his lap, then promptly upended.  
  
"Well, go on! Adore us!" they commanded imperiously, and Harry snickered, before beginning to rifle through the contents of the bag that had spilled out over him. The very first thing that caught his eye was a small, seemingly dead dung beetle. He picked it up gingerly, and turned it over, examining it curiously.   
  
"Guys, was this supposed to be in here?" Harry looked up at the twins, who had similar expressions of delight upon their identical faces.  
  
"That, Harrykins, is what we've created in a long-range of things we've lovingly named 'Skeeters Micromoles.'"  
  
"After dear Hermione told us about the Skeeter woman using her Animagus form, to pick up on information at the school…  
  
"…and explained to us what Muggle bugging was…we just had to try. Therefore, we have a selection of beetles, rats, spiders, and flies…"  
  
"that can be activated, and used to literally "bug" other places. Once activated, the one who did so can see through the creature's eyes and in certain cases, hear from their ears…with a simple little spell...oh and after they're activated…"  
  
"if another touch is administered, they "die" and if a keyword is delivered…a dissolving potion kept in the animals "stomach" is released…and they dissolve."  
  
"These won't be sold, though. Purely for use by the Order…until the war is over."  
  
"Then Skeeters hit the market!" they crowed together, and then crouched down to explain the other things that had been in the bag.  
  
In the end, they'd turned up with the Micromoles; a candy that contained invisibility potion and notice-me-not potions "Out of sight—Out of mind;" a smaller, less-noticeable version of extendable ears whose name they'd lifted from the Muggle cartoon "Dumbo"; and three other products that were purely for pranking fun. Harry put everything back in the bag, and after getting permission, shrunk it and pocketed it, planning to put every item to good use in the future. Then the three of them walked back in the house to Molly's summons of food.  
  
The rest of the visit passed on a very light-hearted note, with all of the family, Harry included, being content not to talk about the past or the future, and to just be around each other. Ginny was not mentioned, nor was the ongoing war. Instead it was just like it had been years before, when they were all in school. Molly yelling at the twins, the twins pranking the others, Molly begging Bill to let her cut his hair, Arthur staying out of it, Molly trying to shove fifth helpings of food down Harry's throat, and at regular intervals, at least one of them going bright red from embarrassment. Especially when Arthur asked Harry about Muggle "con-demins." Harry proved at that moment that he was as much a Weasley as the blood-born ones, as he flushed scarlet red, and proceeded to stutter out an explanation.  
  
"Fascinating!" was Arthurs reaction to learning what they were used for. "But doesn't the plasket slip off? Does it dull sensation?"  
  
"ARTHUR!" Molly snapped, her cheeks bright.  
  
"Sorry, dear…" He smiled at her, and dropped the subject until she'd wandered back in the kitchen, then leaned forward to continue in a hushed tone. "So, how many times do Muggles use these comdems?"  
  
"It's made of a type of rubber, Mr. Weasley. Not plaske-er…plastic."  
  
"Ahh…" The head of the Weasley family nodded his head and leaned back in his chair, placing the opening to his mouth and blowing it up like a balloon. "Muggles must be big!" he exclaimed.  
  
Harry choked. "Ah...uhm… Have you ever seen a cell phone?"  
  
Instantly Arthur began to ask questions, dropping the subject of condoms even though he continued to play with the "balloon" one in his lap.  
  
Harry made sure to keep his eyes on Mr. Weasley's face.  
  
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General: I thought that we needed a bit of a lighter chapter, to break up the melodrama. I hope you all enjoyed J Please review! Also, the plot bunny made babies in my brain. Anyone see where something's going to be introduced?  
  
TexasJeanette: I'll email you soon hon. I hope this was fast enough. I had MAJOR writers block  
  
ShadowICED: Thank you for your review, it was very entertaining, and I've been keeping abreast on your story! Slightly dark pumpkin pie IS good! :giggle: And thank you for making a guess on the question, but, unfortunately, you were wrong. Hermiones resemblance is only superficially to wormtail. He wasn't the one I was alluding to. My AIM is Keely Brannigan, or AlexisXarenya, my email is zarenya@earthlink.net. Feel free to contact me about things that aren't clear, so that I can know what I'm doing wrong, or at least be able to clear them up for you.  
  
That goes for anyone.  
  
Again, please review! Eet ees good for mah soul! J 


	11. Work Backwards To My Secrets

AN: Not mine, Never was, Never Will be. Poor white girl playing with someone else¡¯s toys. JK Rowling¡¯s to be exact. Her toys ONLY! Get yer nasty minds outta the gutter! :grin: THIS BE THE BETA'D VERSION!!  
  
On a side note, and a serious one. People seemed to have stopped reading this. I asked my beta about it, and she informed me that it was because it was too serious. I wont apologize for that. The story is SUPPOSED to be serious. I know as she pointed out that it doesn't cater to the masses, but I'm not afraid to be different. However, I am compromising and some of the story WILL be reworked to add lighter bits throughout it. I'm fond of comedy and lighter stuff myself, as you would see if you read my other story "Three broomsticks confrontation". With that said, I'm accepting suggestions for logical places in the story where lighter stuff could be put in, and what that stuff could be. leave your email address along with your suggestion and i'll get back to you about it. :) So please review :)  
  
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Severus Snape, dressed in black trousers, a black sweater, and black shoes, glared at the piece of paper that had just revealed its message to him. "I am the Potions Master. Not Potter," he sneered. "He thinks he can tell me what a potion needs? Idiotic Gryffindor!" Raising his hand, he rapped three times hard on the door, in with specific timing, and force. It was only with his powers of perception when it came to magic that he saw the faintest golden ripples as the wards protecting the door recognized the signal, and his magical signature.  
  
A split second later, the door unlocked and swung open, admitting him into the cool interior.  
  
Snape took a moment to look around, noting the pictures of the Weasleys?though mainly of Harry and the youngest Weasley?that were scattered upon the walls seemingly haphazardly, although he could pick out the pattern to it. A gentle smirk, the closest he ever came to a true smile, replaced the black expression on his face, as he remembered the young Gryffindor, who'd refused to be beaten down by her first year at Hogwarts, and had grown to be a force that rivaled her twin brothers when she set her mind to it. She was unquestionably bright, which was her saving grace, as she wasn't a bossy know-it-all like Granger. Hence the teachers, even himself, were more likely to let her get away with a bit more. Of course he could never openly display anything, and had resorted to taking points away, only to add them back in a whispered breath as they were exiting the classroom. He did give her quite a bit of detentions, but instead of some of the more disgusting jobs he could have assigned, he pushed the girl mentally and never let up.  
  
In her seventh year, she'd thanked him for it, with an impulsive hug shortly after her NEWT Potions Exam.  
  
He'd smirked, given her a week's detention, and presented her with the opportunity to apprentice her to him to earn her Masters in Potions. After that, he earned the Gryffindor's hatred most strongly, for almost constantly having the girl in "detentions." In one of the pictures, as Harry looked away, Ginny gave a wave and small smile. Severus shook his head, nodded back at the picture before he realized what he was doing, and then hurried through to the potions lab.  
  
Once in there, and for once not under the tension that Potter created just by being in the same room with him,Snape allowed himself a chance to really look around, and had to admit that there was quite a selection of ingredients in stock, and allowed speculation over the fact that so far Harry'd not blown anything up. But then again, the reason why was obvious. He'd been married to an exceptionally bright Potions student. This was obviously her lab. /Away from you, Severus, Harry developed quite a knack for potions./ A lilting voice echoed in his mind, and only his reflexes and training made sure that Severus didn't jump in surprise.  
  
He turned, looking around the room, searching out hidden corners, even going so far as to sweep the room for magical signatures. All he found was the faint traces of Ginny, from the time and magic spent in this place, and Harry's most distinctive signature, which was like a violently green swath across the other magical energies. After a moment, he shook his head. He'd allowed his imagination to get away. That was all it was. But still, as he moved over to the simmering potion that the two of them had been working on, it was hard to shake the feeling that he was being watched. "Paranoid old man. Turning into another Mad-Eye." he muttered, and repressed a shudder at that.   
  
However, just the thought was enough for him to comfortably resume the act he¡¯d kept for so long, one that was so vitally necessary for him to carry out his many deceptions.  
  
Sitting down on one of the stools lining this particular workbench, Severus read over the list of ingredients that Harry had written out, a frown creasing his brow. Some of the things listed just didn't make sense. Why would the boy deliberately add so many odd ingredients? /Because he has to come up with something new?/ The sarcastic thought popped into his head unbidden, and the black-haired man hurriedly looked around the room again. One time was explainable. Two times was disturbing. Uneasy, he turned his attention back to the list of ingredients, and went over the past few times they'd worked on the potion in his mind. It was then that he realized he'd seen Harry call for ingredients that weren't on this list. "Idiot boy. You must always properly document your notes when working on inventing any new potion!" he sneered.   
  
The feeling he'd got from their last talk returned full force, and the sneer turned to a look of guarded speculation. Potter had as much as told him something was up. The question was- what? Standing up, the Potions Master retrieved a clean glass bottle, and carefully ladled some of the viscous pale blue liquid into it, and after stoppering it, placed his own unbreakable charm on the bottle, and slipped it into his pocket.  
  
He had research to do. He'd heard the Muggles called it reverse engineering. Snape called it a challenge. After giving the potion in the cauldron a perfunctory examination and one counter-clockwise stir, so that he could say he'd done something while there, Severus headed from the room at a brisk walk. As he closed the front door behind him, before the soundproofing wards took over, he heard what sounded like the sound of light, feminine laughter.  
  
Ginny's laughter.  
  
He almost broke into a run to get outside the Apparation-blocking wards, and as soon as he'd safely Disapparated to outside Hogwarts wards, couldn't resist giving a sigh of relief. Then he headed towards the school, and directly into his personal quarters to immediately start work. He didn't want to dwell on any of the possibilities of what had been going on at Potter's house. Instead, he wanted to find out what Potter was up to and find an antidote for whatever it was that he was creating.  
  
Albus could NOT die.  
  
Snape had no one else to forgive him.  
  
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Pushing back his chair, Harry lifted his arm above his head and stretched, breaking out into a wide yawn that almost sent him toppling over in surprise. The twins howled with laughter, and Ron snorted into his soup. Molly just looked at him with a content sort of pride in her eyes. She'd fed "her boy" well, and knew he'd enjoyed himself. She opened her mouth, intending to ask Harry to spend the night, and was embarrassed when no words came out. Only sound.   
  
A very unlady-like belch echoed like a shotgun blast through the room.  
  
Bill stared at her in astonishment, and then sniffed, and clapped a hand to his heart. "I'm so proud, Mum. That was one worthy of a Weasley."  
  
"BILL!" Molly went beet-red, and the while the rest of the table laughed openly, except for Arthur, who suddenly found his suit VERY interesting, and Harry, who ducked under the table to laugh helplessly. When he resurfaced, the twins had decided it wouldn't do to have their mother out-burp them, and had chugged their drink.  
  
In typical Gred and Forge style, they burped like they'd rehearsed it. At exactly the same time, a "growl" sounded from them that built up into a full out roar, and then fell silent. Bill, Charlie, Ron, and Harry all applauded and wolf-whistled.  
  
"Th-h-a-a-an-nk Y-y-y-you!" Fred belched.  
  
George, trying to outdo his twin, opened his mouth to deliver his own thank you, but all that emerged was a very feminine squeak.  
  
The whole table cracked up, though Molly and Arthur tried to hide it, and after a few minutes, Harry stood up to make his good-byes. He wanted the visit to end on a very high note.  
  
It almost did.  
  
But then Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as he was walking towards the fireplace, and whispered low. "Mate, can I talk you?"  
  
/No./ Harry thought, but couldn't think of a reason why not, so fidgeting awkwardly, he nodded and gave his best friend a half smile, following him out the door of the Burrow, and plopping down beneath the shade of one of the larger trees on the property. "What's up?"  
  
His answer was exactly what he feared. "It's Hermione."  
  
/Bloody hell! How do you tell your best mate that his wife and closest friend barring yourself is a Death-Eater? Such a good one that she could even put your best friend under Crucio?/ He fervently hoped that it was possibly something else that Ron needed to talk about, but a sinking feeling told him that it wasn't, and a moment later, the red-head confirmed it. The jet-haired young man barely bit back a groan. /Well, the hat DID want to put you in Slytherin. Maybe you can get through this. If you can't.../ He didn't allow himself to continue that line of thought, instead, realizing Ron was talking, he turned his attention to him fully.  
  
"...job taking over her life. I mean, at first, I was happy for her. She'd gotten a job doing research, and we both know how much she loves that." Ron snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry, who frowned. "But now, I don't know. It's like she's not happy anymore, and when she is...Most of the time it's forced. I know I'm thick, but I'm not THAT thick. I mean the answer's obvious."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and he caught his breath, only to exhale in relief.  
  
"She's having an affair."  
  
"Er...wow. You think so?" he said haltingly, resisting the urge to thank the Creator several times, and loudly. He looked away from Ron, digging his fingers into the soft thick grass and plucking blade after blade. Unaware, in his relief, that Ron was looking at him strangely, noting his weird behavior.  
  
  
  
"Mate?" Ron said slowly, his temper starting to rise, "Is there something you aren't telling me?" Accusation laced his voice, and Harry looked back at him, blinking incredulously. He opened his mouth to say something to deny Ron's words, but nothing came out at first. Instead he just got slowly redder, until finally, he managed in a strangled voice.  
  
"Ron! It's HERMIONE! Of course I don't! I couldn't! It's...it's...it's HERMIONE!" He leapt to his feet, shaking his head violently. "That would be like you thinking of GINNY like that!" Harry scrubbed at his face with his palms, thoroughly shocked by what Ron was insinuating. Yeah, Hermione had grown a bit more pretty since their first years as friends, but he certainly didn't think of her like /that/.  
  
Ron stared at him for a long moment, tense as a board, and then suddenly relaxed, running his fingers through his hair. "You're right, mate, I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't do anything behind my back; if you would, you'd have done it long before now. I'm just...worried. Things, well..." The tips of his ears went red. "Things haven't been the way they should be between Hermione and I in a long time. We even sleep in separate bedrooms now. Its just..." He sighed. "I... I'm a jealous prat. I know that Hermione isn't happy with me, but, she's /mine/. The idea of her doing anything with anyone else makes me see red, and we know how easy that is for me." He joked lamely, and rose to his feet. "Anyways, I need to get home to her, and Ginny's probably wondering where you a-"  
  
They both froze, and Ron groaned. "Aw, hell, Harry, I'm sorry."  
  
After assuring him it was okay, Harry left in record time, and as soon as he was gone, suspicions started up in his best friend's head again.  
  
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Beta-reader's note: My fault entirely that this beta-ed version was so long in coming out. Sighhh. Anybody else trying to finish their senior year of college? Yeah? OK, so you feel my pain. ;) lol. Everyone else: be grateful. ? lol. 


	12. Prelude to the Unforgiven Soul

A/N: Finally a new chapter! (BETAD!)  
  
Two days later, after the dinner, Harry sent Hermione another note. It read simply. /Hermione. We need to talk, NOW. Tres Firebolt./ He didn't dare write anymore for fear someone would intercept it. You could never be too careful, was a lesson he knew he needed to learn. He was giving it his best go.  
  
Hermione frowned, staring at the note as Hedwig waited impatiently for a reply, as she'd been told to do. "Tres Firebolt?" she questioned out loud, then nibbled on her lower lip as she tried to figure out what he meant by that. "Tres Firebolt?" The bushy-haired female asked the air, and wandered over to her favorite seat.  
  
She plopped down in it, the note clutched in her hands.  
  
A look of knowing entered her eyes, and the young Death-Eater sprang back up.  
  
"OF COURSE!" She exclaimed. "The Three Bloody Broomsticks!"  
  
"Mione?" Came the amazed question from the doorway, causing her breath to hitch in her throat..  
  
Her eyes widened, and she crumpled the note in her hands.  
  
"Yes R-, De-, er...Yes, husband?" she asked shakily, blushing as she stumbled over her words, and determinedly did NOT look at Ron. So she didn't see the suspicious look he gave her.  
  
"Who was that from?" he asked, stepping inside and pointing towards her hands, where he'd seen her crumple up the note.  
  
She squeaked and whirled to face him. "Oh er...jus...er. Uhm, just a note...from...er...Pavarti." She shifted from one foot to the other. "So did you need something?" Hermione asked as nonchalantly as she could as she strolled over to the sideboard and picked up a quill.  
  
/Harry, Tres Firebolts it is. Now./ She wrote neatly, and folded it up before handing it to the once-again disguised Hedwig. "There you go. You know where to take it, you beautiful bird," she cooed, stroking the owl's head for a brief moment and then turning around to face Ron as Hedwig headed out the window.  
  
"What I need is to know what's up with you," Ron said, his eyes flashing. "That couldn't have been from Pavarti. You two have never liked each other."  
  
He took a step closer, looking as though he were trying to be menacing.  
  
She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. Few men could actually pull off the "big bad" act and Ronald Weasley was NOT one of them. "Let me tell you something, RONALD! You dont know WHO my friends are anymore, and you've not particularly shown an interest in finding out before now so DON'T you give me that --That couldn't have been from Pavarti-- crap!" His ears went red, but she continued on. "You do NOT own me, so don't you dare try to act like you do! I can correspond with anyone I d...I please!! You are starting to seriously annoy me with your new Malfoy imitation, so....so....BUGGER OFF!" She shouted, and stormed passed him, out of the house, and as soon as she was passed the wards, Disapparated.  
  
Ron blinked as she told him to bugger off, and as soon as he realised what had happened, turned around and headed out after her.

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Hermione appeared right before The Three Broomsticks, and pushed open the door, storming inside. Her cheeks still flushed, but now with anger, brown eyes snapping with frustration, she drew quite a few eyes to her. However, it was mainly because of how she was dressed. Having stormed out in a hurry she forgot about the fact that all she was wearing was one of her wrap around shorter skirts that she loved because of the feel of it, and one of Rons button up shirts, that was only buttoned up a few in the center of her chest. She didn't even have shoes on, and her wand holster stood out starkly against the ivory pale flesh she was showing practically everywhere. It was a look she'd never have normally worn in public.  
  
As soon as a wolf-whistle sounded from a table she stopped short, frowned, and looked down at herself. Instantly the flush of anger turned to a flush of embarrassment and she hastily took her wand from the holster and cast a spell that buttoned up her shirt, followed by a notice-me-not one, and headed hastily for a table near the back of the room. Her head was kept down the whole time, and as she seated herself, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
"I can't believe I did that..." She whispered. "Everyone's going to think I'm another Lavendar or Pavarti!" Pavarti's name brought forth the memory of how she'd told Ron off, and anger filled her again as she remembered his actions. But as the minutes passed, she realised he WAS her husband, and used to be one of her best friends. She did owe him some loyalty, and patience. This nagged at her, and she had just decided that it was time to have a long talk with Ron after she met with Harry, when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught her attention.  
  
"Harry..." she breathed.  
  
He gave her that crooked half-smile that had always softened her up or made her smile back, and she relaxed a bit. The answering smile came to her lips naturally, and she registered wtih some consternation the warm feeling that started in her stomach and spread throughout her as she leaned forward to talk with the raven-haired young man.  
  
Neither of them noticed the red-headed man enter the pub and look around, as they immersed themselves in the much anticipated conversation.  
  
A/N: i've updated several parts of the story, but since it was just correcting other chapters, they haven't showed. I haven't given up on this story, but if I dont get at least a few opinions on how I could improve it, I might. I will try to return the favor, btw.


	13. The Spiders Web is Breaking

A/N: Finally a new chapter! Betad!

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"So...you didn't join of your own free will?" Harry rephrased what she'd just said, and sighed in relief, leaning back in his seat and running his fingers through his short black hair.  
  
"Of course not!" Hermione hissed. "and please remember to kee-"  
  
"Silencio." He said simply and she nodded and withdrew her wand, looking around before casting the charm to see if anyone had heard. It was just then that she saw a familiar red-head clenching his hands and slipping out the door of the tavern. "Hell!"  
  
"What?" Immediate concern filled his voice as he sat straight up in the inn's chair and looked around the room, expecting the worst.  
  
Hermione pointed towards the door. "Ron. He was just there. I think he overheard..." She swallowed hard. "Oh Merlin..."  
  
Harry immediately got to his feet, withdrawing his wand from its holster. "C'mon. We've got to go after him," he said, extending a hand to Hermione. As soon as she was on her feet, he lead the way out of the tavern, looking around in hopes that they'd spot Ron before he went and did anything foolish.  
  
There was no such luck.  
  
"Where'd he go?" Her brown eyes glassy with worry, Hermione looked up to Harry.  
  
"If he overheard the last bit...who do we know that's a Death-Eater and one of the people Ron hates most?" Her eyes widened.  
  
"Malfoy..." she breathed.  
  
Harry nodded. "Draco. The manor." He offered her his hand, and she slipped hers in his trustingly. Together they Apparated to near the Malfoy's manor and headed towards the gates. The sight of the bent and charred wrought iron bars made them both go just that much faster. Heading up the walkway, their eyes were all over the place, wondering where Ron and Draco were exactly. They knew from experience they couldn't Apparate into the house.  
  
A flash of red light from the left side of the house, and the high screams of pain answered that question for them. A succint "Fuck" was said by Harry, and they both took off running then. Harry lead the way by covering his head with his arms and diving towards the window where they'd saw the light.  
  
The glass shattered, and he was rolling smoothly and coming to his feet before Malfoy had even registered who it was that had broken into his house. Hermione followed after him, although not quite so dramatically. "Let him go, Malfoy." Harry's green eyes were ice cold, and his wand steady in his hand as he pointed it at Draco's heart.  
  
Draco raised a brow and said sardonically. "Potter. I knew you weren't really a follower of the-"  
  
Harry glared and put up a silencing spell. Then "Crucio," he hissed. Malfoy hit the ground screaming. He didn't see the horrified look Hermione tossed him before she ran to Ron's side and helped him to his feet.  
  
"What in the world do you think you're doing?!" she scolded her husband, tears in her eyes. "You could have been killed!" Ron paid her no attention, his face white as he stared at Harry who still had Malfoy in the grip of the cruciatus. She followed his eyes and then turned back to him, her hands on his shoulders. "Ron, listen to me! It's not what you think!"  
  
He finally looked down at her, and pushed her away. "Oh really?! Not what I think? So when I'm thinking HARRY has Malfoy under the cruciatus, I'm wrong? I was wrong when I heard Malfoy say that Harry was a follower of the Dark Lord now?? Tell me, Hermione, am I wrong about that?"  
  
"No. You heard right-" Came a voice from the doorway. "But apparently there is something you've not heard..." It was Lucius Malfoy, his wand drawn. The door had been opened quietly, they'd not heard him come in. Knowing what he was going to say, Hermione whirled towards him. "He knows," she spat coldly.  
  
The elder blonde-man sighed. "So i don't get to torture him with the knowledge that his precious Gryffindor wife is a Death-Eater before I kill him? That's too bad," he said mockingly. "I'll just get right to it."  
  
"NO, LUCIUS!" She screamed.  
  
He laughed, and his eyes darted to Harry and Draco, who were now battling it out, fairly equally matched. Hermione followed his eyes for a split second, and then realized she'd been tricked when she heard him begin: "Ava--"  
  
She reacted. Her wand aimed at his chest, she screamed quickly. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lucius' eyes widened in surprise as the rest of the killing curse escaped his lips just as he was struck by Hermione's. "Thank God..." she breathed, thinking that the curse would lose its power since he wasn't alive at the end of it. Not realising that hers had killed him not two seconds after he'd completed it.  
  
She turned to smile up at Ron, only to see nothing. Frowning, still not realising, she looked around, then down at the ground, where he lay, crumpled. "No!"came the strangled cry, and she dropped to her knees beside his body, staring at the wide eyes of her now-dead husband, but most importantly, best friend.  
  
She stayed that way for what seemed like ages, just looking at him, and remembering all their good times until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Jumping, she whipped her head around, looking up at Harry and sighing in relief. "Where's--?"  
  
"Dead. I couldn't have him running to Voldemort, and Oblivations can be broke a little too easily by him anyways," Harry said tonelessly as he stared down at the dead body of his best friend. "Poor Molly and Arthur..." he said after a while. "First Ginny, now Ron. Their youngest."  
  
Guilt entered Hermione's eyes, and she opened her mouth. "Harry, I--" But she said no more as he knelt and slid his arms under Ron's body, lifting it up. "Lead the way to the door please, Hermione," he said. "We've got to take Ron back to Mrs. Weasley."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Hermione, we'll talk later. I promise. Right now this is more important." After a moment, Hermione nodded.  
  
"Of course, Harry. Forgive me."  
  
"Always." His voice was warm and soothing, grief just barely tinging it. It was a welcome change from the hollowness of just moments earlier. Somehow it flooded her body and filled her with the strength to go on.  
  
For the moment, at least.  
  
A/N: i've updated several parts of the story, but since it was just correcting other chapters, they haven't showed. I haven't given up on this story, but if I don't get at least a few opinions on how I could improve it, I might. I will try to return the favor, btw.  
  
Lisa: Hermione's reasons for becoming a deatheater are revealed a few chapters back :) Thank you for reading and reviewing :)  
  
HPHGShipper: thank you for the wonderful review, it lifted my spirits a lot and i'll keep what you said in mind :) I hope I didnt disappoint with this one.  
  
Omagic: thank you so much for your reviews. They gave me the gumption I needed to start considering the next chapter of this story and i wanted to publicly acknowledge how much I love your story :)


	14. Sad Rememberings, Sweet Comfortings

**A/N: Nother chapter! Be sure to read the bottom!  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own it, Never did own it, Never will Own it.**  
  
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The day was appropriately dark and dreary, rain pouring down all around them as they stood at the graveyard around the freshly dug grave of Ronald Weasley. None of the rain was actually touching them for Dumbledore had taken the liberty of casting a dome of protection against the weather. It didnt block out sounds, and as thunder cracked overhead, Harry wished that rain could touch them. Beat at their skin, weigh them down. Wash away the sins that were piled so heavily upon his shoulders. Mask the tears that he knew he should be crying, but hadn't actually let out yet.  
  
His wish was never granted, so Harry kept his head down, eyes fixed upon the coffin that would soon be lowered into the ground. Images of the fight in which Ron had lost his life kept going through his mind. Expecially the part where he'd put Draco Malfoy under the cruciatus. Part of him was bothered by the fact that he'd managed to hold it on him so long, and not mind it. It was almost as if he reveled in it. But it never made him truly happy. He got satisfaction from seeing Malfoy writhing in pain in revenge for all the taunts and curses that had been flung at eachother when they were younger, but most expecially for the pain he'd put Ginny through when it was announced that they were going to marry.  
  
At least Draco would never bother him again. He hadnt' really registered what had happened till after they got Ron to the Burrow, but looking back at the time that had passed in a blur after hearing Malfoy incant the killing curse....Harry realised that Draco had never gotten up after he'd thrown the last panicked stunner at him. In his minds eyes he could see Malfoy fly through the air, his head striking the shelf that was mounted on the wall behind him. Draco crumbling to the ground, blood dripping from his nose, eyes wide and vacant. A vaguely shocked expression on his face from the force of the spell or the fact that he'd lost. Harry would never know which one in particular it was. Nor did he care. At the moment the only thing he could really care about was the fact that yet again he'd lost someone he cared about.  
  
Now all he had was Hermione.  
  
_/I wonder what they would think if they knew the truth, if they knew that--even as i mourn-- i am responsible for the deaths of two of the people who meant the most in the world to me... I wonder what the Weasleys would say...what they would do? And my parents,, Merlin, my parents; I don't even want to think about them. Remain emotionless, Hermione, emotion is what got you caught in the first place... But it's MY FAULT!!!! It's all my fault!! Oh, Merlin, Ron... I'm so very, very sorry./ _With those thoughts cascading through her tired and stressed brain, Hermione fell to her knees. Those watching thought they knew why her legs were failing to support her, as she fell down beside the grave of her husband, lying beside the grave of his sister, her best friend. They had no idea. None of them did. She was not a death eater. She was a death maker. _/DeathEater-DeathMaker-DeathBaker./_..The words jingled inside her head childishly and against her will a half giggle - half sob burst through the thin veneer she was maintaining and she never even noticed the people slowly start to trickle away, until only one remained, his hand on her shoulder where it had been the entire time.   
  
Harry had glanced up when the Weasleys would have comforted Hermione when it was near she was so close to cracking, but one look at his face and they knew that it was not the time, that Harry would take care of her; they could grieve together later, when Hermione was not so fragile, so delicate. They didn't want to lose her, too. And so the Weasleys walked away, leading the Grangers, who understood what was going on, but didn't understand the magical ramifications. Mrs. Weasley explained in hushed and worried tones how close Hermione's magic was coming to breaking her, and so the two dentists let themseles be led away... leaving only two beside the long row of newly-turned earth, headed by a marble stone.  
  
His hand on her shoulder, Harry remembered another time, not so very long ago, when the positions had been reversed, when it had been Hermione who stood over him, as he fell beside the grave now to his side, as his brain tried to absorb the loss of Ginny. After an eternity--or maybe just a few minutes, it mattered little--Harry knew that the only thing left to do was to go. So he gently bent down, and even more gently picked Hermione up in his arms. He put her head on his shoulder, never letting himself lose contact; he knew that she needed a physical touch, not just a presence, right now. Silently, he Apparated them both back to Hermione and Ron's house--now simply Hermione's.  
  
At the top of the stairs, he paused almost imperceptibly, and then headed down the hall to Hermione's room. He doubted it would be a very wise idea to put Hermione in Ron's bed, even now.  
  
A simple spell got Hermione out of her funeral attire and into her night clothes. He never broke contact with the grieving girl as he pulled down the comforter, placed her in her bed, and tucked her in. It was only as he kissed her on the forehead and turned to go that she uttered her first syllable since Ron's funeral began.  
  
He turned back immediately to face her, his brow knit in consternation. When she saw the question, the hesitation, the uncertainty in his eyes, she repeated herself. "Stay. Stay with me. Please. He's taken everyone else. Don't leave me."  
  
Harry didn't have to ask who "he" was.  
  
He couldn't resist her. That she'd came out of her shell to ask that of him showed just how important it was to her. So he gave a crooked sad smile, and slipped off the solemn black wizarding robes and shoes to get in beside her, leaning up against the headboard. Instinctively one of his hands found their way to her hair, and he began to slowly run his fingers through the somewhat frizzy utterly thick mass. "Rest." He said softly, removing his glasses and laying them on the bedside table before rubbing his gritty eyes.  
  
By the time he looked back down at his sole remaining best friend, she was already fast asleep.  
  
The sight of her long lashes making soft shadows against her cheeks, amplifying the shadows that stress had left there recently triggered off a memory. It was one he made no move to stop.  
  
Tonight was a night to Remember.

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**/FB/** "Tuck me in?" Hermione asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes outrageously. Harry chuckled.   
  
"I wish I had a camera, you're going to want to hurt yourself in the morning. Acting like a girl" He teased, and she rolled her eyes.   
  
"Honestly, Harry, I am a girl! How else am I s'posed to act?" He shook his head and pulled the covers up around her chin, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead.   
  
"No, you're a pissed HeadGirl, is what you are."   
  
"I am NOT!" She retorted indignately. "You have to be thoroughly drunk to be "pissed" as you put it, and I -sir- am NOT drunk!." She giggled after the pronouncement and then slapped a hand to her mouth. "I didn't just giggle did I? I don't giggle. Giggling is gir-" At the look on his face she stopped abruptly and blushed.   
  
"Someone needs to make up their mind about something." Harry teased, and grinned before getting up and walking out of the room to go to his own bed. It was definitely nice with them both being Heads. No stupid girls dorm protection spells to contend with**./end FB/**  
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A grin curved his lips and he shook his head ruefully. That was the only time he'd ever seen her drunk. Now Ron on the other hand... 

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"Can you believe tha'? Shtill writing to bloody VICKY! Af'r all thish time!" The red-head murmured as he flopped down on his dormitory bed and flung out an arm. "She'sa traitor!" He declared dramatically, and Harry couldn't help but snort.   
  
"A traitor because she's writing to Vicktor Krum?"   
  
"Yeah! There's only room in thish trio for two--er-three people, and HE'S NOT ONE OF THEM!" Harry instantly caught on to what Ron had almost said, and a smirk took his lips.   
  
"You've got it bad, mate." He said in mock sympathy. Ron growled at him, his eyes bloodshot and the area under them baggy, it was a fair imitation of his Animagus form- a basset hound.   
  
"Would you shtop bloody insi...insinc...insinct- would you jusht shut up about Me and Mione?!"   
  
"Well..I mean..if your sure..." Harry knew then exactly what to say, and had to fight back a grin. "Its kinda good to know since I was considering asking her out."   
  
"WHAT?!" Came a yell as soon as Ron comprehended what he'd said.  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harry smirked and reach up to touch his eye in remembrance of the shiner he'd had to go around with until lunch the next day when Hermione took pity on him and dragged him to the hospital wing to get a bruise-relief potion. It wasn't too long after that that Ron had asked Hermione out. It was, however, a good bit longer before Ron would talk to him.  
  
Harry wouldn't have had it any other way though. After all, the batch of chocolate frogs he'd won for being the one that finally got them together quite made up for any lack of man-to-man talk for the next week.  
  
Soon other memories started dredging to the surface, going through his mind in rapid fire procession.  
  
_ Flashes of the three of them taking out Bellatrix Black on Halloween of his sixth year..._  
  
_Hermione crying over Ron as he lay in a coma for the next two weeks...  
_  
_Ginny smacking sense into him when he'd shown that he was buried in self-blame and pity._  
  
_Ginny kissing him immediately afterwards.  
_  
_ Lupin walking in on the two of them half-undressed while they were at Grimmauld Place that next summer._  
  
_The birds and the bees talk he'd had to listen to afterwards..._  
  
_Approaching Arthur to request his daughters hand in marriage._

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"Mr. Weasley?" Harry said from the doorway, swallowing hard, his hands in his pockets. "Can I uhm...talk to you?"  
  
"Of course, my boy!" Arthur, the tall red-headed head of the Weasley clan agreed with a smile, ushering Harry into the room and slapping up a silence spell so they wouldn't be disturbed. "Now, whats bothering you?" He leaned forward, eyes wide, hoping it had to do with either muggles or Ginny. From what Molly had told him, he was definitely hoping it had something to do with Ginny. Otherwise they were going to have to have a little talk with the boy-who-lived.  
  
"Its about ....uhm..." Again Harry swallowed hard. /I can face Voldemort with no fear, but I can't hardly do this...You're a gryffindor, Harry...not a Slytherin...the sorting hat wanted to put me in slytherin...JUST DO IT!/ "Er...Iwannamarryyourdaughter!" He squeaked out in surprise.  
  
Arthur blinked, and held back a grin. "Say that again, Harry? I didn't quite catch it." His eyes sparkled.  
  
Harry groaned. "I er...love Ginny and uhm...well, I want to marry her. I just..I was going to ask her first, but then Remus told me it would be better to come to you firs...and I'm rambling." He ducked his head and blushed furiously.  
  
Now outright smiling, Arthur shook his head in amusement and called Harry's name. When the boy-who-lived-to-become-a-man looked up, Arthur chuckled. "Its about time. If we'd not heard word that you were serious about Ginny soon, there was going to be a talking to, young man." Then he couldn't help but wink. "From Molly mainly."  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide. The idea of having another "Talk" was embarrassing as it was. The idea of MOLLY Weasley giving it to him... "Bury me now..." He mumbled, his blush growing in intensity.  
  
Arthur broke into a fit of laughter, and it was a good two minutes before he calmed and wiped his eyes before continuing. "Do you have a ring picked out?"  
  
He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a white gold engagement ring that was engraved with vines and leaves with a diamond bud that was enchanted to slowly bloom into a full-fledged rose over and over again. He held it out towards his girlfriends father, anxiously hoping it would meet his approval.  
  
Mr. Weasley nodded his head and said solemnly. "Welcome to the family, officially."  
  
Harry had to put his head between his knees to keep from fainting in relief.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _ Graduation day for the three of them_  
  
_ Ron and Hermione getting married._  
  
_ Him teasing Hermione with possible names for any children they might have._  
  
_Ginny telling him she was pregnant._  
  
_Holding her hand at St. Mungos after she'd fell and miscarried._  
  
Tears came to his eyes as he remembered how broken up she had been. He'd not handled that too well himself._ /At least now Ginny will be with the baby.../_ He thought to himself, and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard but it wouldn't go down, and just kept fighting to the surface.  
  
A sob broke free and almost instantly Hermione moaned softly beside him and opened her eyes. "Harry?"  
  
He blushed, and quickly swiped at the tears that were trickling down his cheeks. "Shh, 'Mione..rest."  
  
She stared at him in concern and then held out her arms. "Come here..." She said softly, wanting nothing more than to comfort and be comforted by her best friend. He paused for a second, not really sure it was proper, but then threw the thought aside. They'd both lost someone they loved. They were best friends. Who the hell cared how they acted.  
  
Harry went into her arms quietly, his body wracked as he tried to hold back tears. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly. It pained her more to see him in such obvious pain than it did losing Ron, she realised with a jolt. Not really realising what she was doing, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. The sigh that escaped his lips at this action prompted her to kiss him again, this time softly on the lips.  
  
His emerald green eyes were wide as he jerked back and stared at her for a moment.  
  
She swallowed hard, but held his gaze.  
  
After a few seconds had passed he made a noise in his throat and kissed her back, tears tracking down his skin. "I miss her..." He whispered brokenly. Guilt filled her, and the only thought she had then was _/Let me make it up to him. Merlin, let me make him better./_ Her hands came around to his chest, and she unbuttoned the first button of the black shirt he wore, her eyes on his the whole time.  
  
"I need you tonight, Harry. We need eachother." He was absolutely still for a minute, but then he brought one hand to her face, and gave a sad smile.  
  
He took the comfort she offered.  
  
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**_A/N: I know its been a while since I've written, and I'm sorry. I kinda lost interest for a while.  
  
Thanks to OMAGIC for being the one to get me re-interested in writing on this story.  
  
The ending of this chapter wasn't planned, but it just seemed to happen. I'd like everyones opinion on it. _**


	15. Bright Red Cheeks and Hardwood Floors

Disclaimer: Don't own. Jk rowling does, and assorted enterprises.

A/N: This is a bit of a lighter chapter because quite frankly I felt it was needed after Ron's death and such. I hope it turned out okay :) Btw: Thanks for the review again OMAGIC (go read his story Fire of Life people :prods:) and the rest of my reviewers :)

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Early the next morn found three people in Hogwarts up and about. Two were getting ready for the day and one was only up because he'd been up all night working. In his office, Dumbledore leaned forward from the cushy chair that was one of the few perks of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and with special care for a well-loved ritual, took out his tin of lemon drops, pried the lid off, set it aside, and selected the most bright and round one of the bunch. Indulging in a bit of selfish amusement, the Headmaster looked furtively around the room before quickly popping the selected lemon drop in his mouth.

As soon as the sweet lost its pucker power, he smiled delightedly, then sat back with a content sigh. Across the room, on his perch, Fawkes trilled a short burst of notes, and Dumbledore looked over at his pet Phoenix. "I know, Fawkes. I really should act more my age...but, dear friend- when you get as old as I am, you find there are very few things that you can take pleasure in."  
  
Fawkes just gave him a look and a disgusted trill. At this the headmaster remembered that Fawkes was as old as he was, and his eyes sparkled as he got up from his chair and walked over to appease his feathered friend.   
  
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Down in the dungeons, Severus stood beside a row of small metal trays, scratching out a few notes on a scroll of parchment he'd temporarily stuck to the lab table. On it was a list of all the ingredients he KNEW Potter had used, and right below that was a hastily scrawled list of what he'd narrowed down other than that.  
  
So far some of the weirdest ingredients were coming to light. "Willow's bark?" He muttered even as he wrote it down. "Does Potter even have a clue what the properties of Willow bark are? Its a pain-reliever and he's got in a poison. Bloody idiot." That was about what he wrote on the paper too. Sighing, he turned back to the trays, and grabbed one he'd not yet tested anything on. Adding a bit of boomslang skin, he watched carefully for the potion to turn any number of colours that would indicate there was something in there that it reacted with. When the contents of the tray began to turn pitch black and smoke, he muttered a curse and Evanesco'd the contents, before breathing a sigh of relief. "well, at least the twit does know some of his ingredients.  
  
Knowing what reacted so dangerously with the boomslang skin, Snape turned towards the parchment and jotted another note down before sighing. Already there were 15 ingredients, and Merlin only knew how many more. Deciding enough was enough for now, he unstuck his notes and headed out of his private lab and into his study. It was time to relax. Which, of course, for Severus meant reading over the notes that he'd taken and doing a bit of theorizing.  
  
Plopping down on a thick black leather couch in front of the unlit fireplace, he gave a sigh of contentment, and stretched his feet out to rest upon the coffee table in front of him before turning his attention to his notes. "Now, Potter, lets see if I can get inside that Gryffindor brain of yours."  
  
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Harry sneezed violently as hair tickled his nose. Groaning, he swatted at it, only to sneeze yet again when the tickling sensation almost instantly returned. "What the-?" He croaked, and ruthlessly pried his sleep-glued eyes open by sheer will until he could just see the room he was in. Which had turned brown? overnight apparently. Bringing a hand up, he started to rub his eyes, and felt an oddly familiar texture laying on his face. "Weird..." He muttered, and squeezed his eyes open wider, picking up some of the brown stuff and examining it groggily.  
  
Just then there was a deep sigh from beside him, and all the sudden, an arm was flung over his chest. "Mmm."  
  
He sat bolt upright in bed when realisation struck. "No..no no no no no no no no..." He repeated frantically, staring at the now awake Hermione with wide eyes. A now awake and very naked Hermione. Instantly his cheeks coloured bright red and he looked down at his hands.  
  
"Harry, whats wrong?"  
  
/Whats wrong? WHATS WRONG?! I buggered my sister, thats whats wrong!/

/She's not your sister. At least you didn't think so last night./ Spoke the taunting voice in the back of his head.

"I know she's not really my sister, but I mean, its Hermione! She's Rons. Not mine. I don't even think of her that way."

/You did last night./

"Would you stop bloody reminding me?!"  
  
"Harry..." Came a wary voice tinged with hurt. "You're talking to yourself."  
  
He looked toward her reflexively, got an eyeful of her not inconsiderable charms, and realised what she said at the same time."Gyaaaargh!" He yelped, and jumped, looking away. This was enough to send him off the side of the bed, and his bare butt met the floor with a Smack! Harry sat there for a moment, disconcerted, and then when he took in exactly what had happened, muttered a low but fervent "Ouch."   
  
Against her will, Hermione giggled, and after pulling the sheet up around her to spare his apparently virgin eyes, leaned over the side of the bed to peer at him. "Good morning, Harry."  
  
Snapping his head around to look at her, Harry's hands flew down to cover his private areas, and he blushed beet red again. "'Mione!" He hissed. "I'm naked!"  
  
"Really, Harry, one would think you'd have realised that by now. You know, you do generally need to be stripped of clothing before you can properly copulate."  
  
The boy-who-got-buggered groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. "I meant look away till i get dressed."  
  
"Why?" She asked coquettishly. Partly embarrassing him for good fun, and partly because he'd hurt her even if he hadn't meant to say any of it outloud. "I'm enjoying the view."  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
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"Timmme go-oes byyy and I'm so happy I could cryyy..." The haunting lyrics echoed throughout the house as one object after another seemed to lift itself into the air only to be transported somewhere else. Drawers opened and closed, items being put back in order within them.  
  
Really, Harry never had been particularly neat so it was no surprise that in the time she'd been gone that the house would fall into disrepair. Well, technically she'd never been completely gone. The whole unfinished business yet. At least she knew she would eventually go on because she KNEW what her unfinished business was. It was Harry. She had to mend him. Thankfully she knew just how to do it. In the meantime though, she'd continue to look after him and...Suddenly the memory of when Snape had visited flashed in her mind and she giggled. He would be fun to mess with. Too bad she couldn't leave the house. At least not yet. The first time she'd moved books it had taken her three days before she'd managed to get up the strength to do much else. She was only just now being able to take on a bit of substance so that she could appear, and only for brief moments.  
  
Which was good. The whole disembodied voice thing would probably make her poor husband think he was going crazy. Soon, she hoped, she'd gather enough energy from the magic that permeated the air around her until she was able to go along with Harry. To spy on him. Yes, spy. She had no compunctions about doing so. She wanted her husband to be happy and was going to utilize every bit of her power to make sure it happened that way.  
  
Being a ghost really wasn't such a bad thing, expecially when one knew they weren't going to be one forever, Ginny reflected as she folded clothes and put them in the proper drawers. For example, she'd been able to watch Harry sleep every night, storing up memories. She'd stroked his hair back, kissed his scar, whispered she loved him, exactly as she had when she was alive, but now all her attention could center soley on him for quite a bit longer, until she had to retreat into near nothingness to store up energy again. Like she'd have to do after she got done cleaning house. "Really, he's going to freak." She said to herself and then grinned. "I know very few people can actually come in here, and we long since stopped mum from coming in to clean...maybe he'll think he's being haunted." Her brows rose as she considered this, and then her laughter filled the air. "and he'd be right."  
  
She just hoped she was making the right decision in "coming out" to Harry so that he knew she was there. Somehow though, she got the feeling things were going to get a lot more complicated.  
  
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"I've got to get home, "Mione." Harry said from the doorway of the kitchen as he finished toweling his unruly black hair.  
  
Hermione looked up with a puzzled expression, one eyebrow faintly arched. She said nothing though, merely continued to do her work around the house, which was cleaning up any of Ron's possessions that were laying around and carefully packing them away. Now that she was...free...she didn't want any reminders of her ex-husband laying around. She had enough guilt as it was.  
  
"I've got that potion to work on, and well, you know Snape. He has a habit of bursting in at any time. I'll teach him eventually." A slight smile tugged at Harry's lips as he remembered when he'd slugged Snape that first day at his house. It had been /so/ worth it, even if he had probably earned the man's undying hatred. That caused him to stop, a frown creasing his brow. /Wait a second,/ he thought. /this is SNAPE we're t...I'm talking about. I already have the greasy gits undying hatred./  
  
" es...and its probably a bit awkward for you here right now. I understand." She smiled at him, pushing back a lock of almost frizzed brown hair behind one delicately curved ear. Her words caused Harry to squirm uncomfortably. It was more than a little awkward. Even at the thought of what they'd done, Harry could feel shame filling him. At the same time though, it sent a peculiar warmth through him. It was different from anything he'd experienced with Ginny. With her it had been deep love, the forever kind, that kept things gentle and considerate- (well, most of the time at least- the time that Ginny had surprised him by tying him to the bed..that DEFINITELY wasn't gentle.) With Hermione though, it had been desperate, fired-up. Comforting, yet it left him wanting more.  
  
Which was something he definitely wasn't comfortable with. Ginny hadn't been gone all that long and he was already looking at someone else? Self-disgust filled him and it was all he could do to give Hermione a weak smile before he turned and went to locate his robes.  
  
Moments later, he emerged fully dressed from her bedroom to find her standing in front of the fireplace, looking at a picture of the four of them on the mantle. Stepping up quietly as he heard her sobs, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Immediately she buried her face in his robes, and wrapped her arms around his waist, crying fiercely. It caused him to be more than a little disconcerted, and not really clear on why she was crying, for this didn't seem to be just normal grief, he murmured nonsensical words and rocked from side to side with her in an effort to calm her down.  
  
It seemed an hour had passed before her sobs began to decrease, and soon were nothing more than just sniffles. Still she didn't raise her head. Concerned, he lowered his head and whispered near her ear, "Hermione? It'll be okay."  
  
"NO HARRY!" Came the fierce reply as the brown haired know-it-all stepped away from her best friend. "It won't be okay! It'll never be okay. You do- ARGH!" Pain shot through her forearm and she dropped to her knees reflexively, cuddling the limb to her body.  
  
Not two seconds later, Harry's scar seared with pain, and he let out a cry before swiftly stiffling it. /You called?/  
  
/Mm, indeed. I am calling a meeting. You are not required to come, but you will have detailed notes on your potion ready for me soon. I have no other job for you just yet./ Harry rolled his eyes, one hand still pressed to his scar.  
  
/Alright./ There was silence on the link for a moment, and then suddenly pain flooded him worse than before.  
  
Blood began to drip from Harry's scar as he stumbled blindly backwards until his legs came in contact with the sofa and he sat down hard. /What the he-/  
  
/Insolent Brat!/ Came Voldemorts voice as the pain lifted a bit. /You shall treat me with respect or else!/ Harry gritted his teeth and shook his head at the arrogance of the...man? he was now supposed to call master.  
  
/Sorry...sir./ He pushed out along the mental length, and then braced himself for pain that never came. Instead came the chilling laughter that Voldemort let out when he was most pleased.  
  
/Good, Potter. I think I'll have you trained like a faithful lap dog one of these days./  
  
/Bite Me./ "ARRGH!" He cried out in anguish as pain surged anew.  
  
From her position on the floor, still cradling her arm even though the pain had passed, Hermione watched Harry suffer under whatever curse Voldemort was inflicting on him through the link and rage filled her. No one hurt him! Not even that....BASTARD that ruled over her. Getting to her feet, she swiftly crossed to his side, and pulled her against him.  
  
Her hand found its way to his that was pressed over his scar, while the other arm pressed his head to her shoulder.  
  
His pain intensified.  
  
He screamed out suddenly, then fell limp against her.  
  
Her mark burned again and she cursed, before gently laying him out on the sofa and summoning a quill and parchment.  
  
Harry,  
  
I had to go. He called.  
  
Love,  
  
Hermione  
  
P.S.- Thank you for last night.  
  
With that she grabbed her mask, robes, slipped them on, and apparated away.  
  
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Four Hours Later  
  
Snape burst through the door of Harry's home yet again, and Harry, who'd been resting on the couch from the effects of whatever it was Voldemort had done to him, could only look up tiredly. He'd not been home from Hermione's house for an hour, and had been looking forward to a night of peace and quiet. Sneering, Snape looked down his nose at the boy-who-lived. "You absolutely foolish, thick skulled, arrogant, little.......Slytherin."  
  
Harry blinked at Snape disbelievingly and raised an eyebrow. "Was that a...compliment?"  
  
The Potions Master narrowed his eyes at him, he should have known better than to even indirectly compliment the stupid child. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter. Your potions not THAT bloody good." The words came out scathingly, some of the best he'd ever spat, and he knew it.  
  
The messy haired young man, however, just grinned and slapped a hand to his heart. "Aww, Sevvie loves me!"  
  
Severus fell silent for a moment in shock at the rudeness, and then snarled, "Potter!"  
  
Harry did what any sensible man would do when he'd just commited a particularly stupid act and was facing a painful death. He ran for the safest location he could think of, and locked himself in.  
  
"Potter, get. out. of. the. bathroom."

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Hope you liked :)

Questions: Should Remus make another appearance? and do you think hermione should be discovered or let it be known to dumbledore on her own that she's a DE?


	16. In Anothers Eyes

_A/N: I know I haven't updated in a while, and I know this isn't very long, but I have a few things to comment on. First, the only reason I began writing again on this story was because I saw it listed on the favorites of an author I respect (James Milamber)(I had quite forgotten about his stating he had added me to his favorites) and it shocked me into writing again. However, I'm currently attending college, so my mind is often on other things. I will start updating again though. Starting with this. When I can, and what I can.  
On the last chapter, a few people (Thank you James, and Lyssie) sat me straight on the definition of bugger. That was NOT how that word was meant to be used. Where I live, when its used, its more of a well..synonym for getting laid, quite frankly. I will correct it when I get the time though.  
Also, I got a few comments in reviews about this story being too dark. I won't apologize for that, but I would hope that you would give it a chance anyways. This story will be dark throughout, but I do always try to include lighter moments, and although I won't reveal how the ending goes—I don't necessarily believe in unhappy endings. Truthful ones, but not unhappy ones. (Now you just gotta guess at my definition of unhappy ;) )  
BTW: I don't see my beta much anymore, so could someone please beta this for meeee? I'll love you forever!!!—I'm also considering re-writing---any suggestions?_  
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It was a full half hour later before Harry would emerge from the bathroom, and when he did, he found that Snape was not there; but there was a distinctive smell coming from the direction of the potions lab. "Ah, the smell of hair grease...so lovely to come out to."

"Harry, be nice." The words seemed to be whispered intimately into his left ear, and as a shiver ran through him, he whirled around to the sight of everything behind him being perfectly normal. Still though, he felt chills run up his spine. It had sounded so much like. "Ginny?!" A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard. No one answered though, and after a moment he took a deep breath. "Going crazy, Potter." With a good deal of self-disgust, he turned on his heel and walked towards the potions lab, composing himself by running a hand through his messy black hair as he went.

From the hall, a flicker of a young woman, translucent, but with the red of her hair shining through, came into view, and gentle laughter floated through the air. "No, love, not going crazy. Just being haunted." Smirking playfully, she faded from view again, trying hard to resist the urge to run up to Harry and pinch him on the arse. She knew she couldn't though. It would be funny, but Harry was no longer hers.

"Finally decided to act like the Gryffindor you are so proud of being, Potter?" The words greeted him as soon as he stepped into the room, although the potions master had his back to him. Harry, already unsettled by his encounter with...his imagination?, jumped, and then glared at Snape's back.

"Shove it, Snape."

"Ah-ah, Potter. I know your secret now. I could have you killed in a heartbeat." The greasy haired man intoned with an almost playful (for him, anyways) edge, as he turned to retrieve some of the last ingredient needed to be added to the potion, (that Potter had listed, at least), more commonly known as Death's Door.

"Snape, there is no room in the game I'm playing for your childish threats." Green eyes hardened as Harry flicked his wand into his hand, and walked up behind the Potion's Master, pressing the tip of it into the back of his neck. "You know how powerful I am, Professor. You also know how much I hate you. I _killed _Draco Malfoy, held him under the cruciatus long enough to drive him_ insane_; and it was easy. So if you have any instinct for self-preservation, you will either help me, or stay out of my way, _because I take no survivors_. Not this time."

A shiver ran through Severus, one he tried hard to suppress. The sheer...darkness...in the Gryffindor's tone right then rivaled the Dark Lord's when he was at his most sane, and was coldly plotting something. _Dear Merlin_, he thought, _If he's already that far...what's going to happen after he kills the Dark Lord?_ It wasn't something pleasant to contemplate. Quelling the fear he was beginning to feel, Severus turned around slowly and easily and raised a brow at his former student. "I'm a Slytherin, Potter. Your stupid intimidation tactics do not work on me."

Harry just snorted and began to incant Crucio.

Snape flinched visibly, and Harry smirked at him. "They don't, huh?" 

"Shut up, Potter!" With the words growled, Snape turned his attention back to the cauldron, and began to crumble up the fungus, in preparation to add it to the cauldron. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you actually going to help out? There are still plenty of things the Dark Lord would be delighted to hear about.

With a roll of his eyes, the raven-haired younger man holstered his wand and walked over to the other side of the table and picked up the now gold stirring spoon. "33 and a third times counter clock-wise, and 4 times clockwise, correct?" 

A sharp nod was his answer, and then the Potion's Master began to drop in the fungus, watching critically as the potion began to turn to a shining gold color, with swirls of leaf-green tracing throughout it.  
It was only after Harry had completed the stirring of the potion, and all the fungus had been added, that Snape stepped away from the cauldron and said almost conversationally, "You know, if this works, this is a potion that could be very valuable to those who wish to escape from their old life?"

Harry had to repress a caustic "No shit, Sherlock.", instead, he merely nodded, and changed the subject. "We can't tell the old Man. You realize that, right? If this is going to pull off..."

"No one can know." Snape finished for him. "That seems surprisingly sensible coming from you, Potter." The-boy-who-lived's temper flared, and he clenched his fists.

"You know, you treat me like a bloomin' idiot, yet out of the two of us, I'm the one who came up with this potion, even though you're a bloody potion's Master. I'm the one who made this plan to finish off the Dark Lord, and I haven't gone crawling to anyone, trying to make up for my actions. You put down Gryffindors, Sevvie, but between the two of us? I may die, in fact I full well intend on it, but exactly who's going to rid the world of that scum Voldemort? Hmm?"

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Severus broke eye contact, looking down to the potion, in the pretext of checking on it.

From then until he left, except for a brief comment about how long the potion needed to boil, then cool, and then simmer...no words came from the either mouth.

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A knock at the door brought Hermione out of the light doze she'd entered into, and the bushy-haired woman sat up on the couch, hurriedly checking to make sure that her left forearm was covered. "Who is it?" She called out. A smile touched her lips when the person on the other side of the door answered, and she practically leapt off the couch and sped to the door, pulling it open. "Professor Lupin! Hello!" The graying man smiled warmly, yet politely at Hermione, although his eyes held a touch of pity? In them.  
"Hello, Hermione. How are you?" She knew he was asking about Ron's death, and as she liked him so much, she gifted him with a truthful answer. "I'm doing surprisingly okay, Professor. Mourning the loss of my best friend, but...okay." He blinked in surprise; he had expected her to be mourning the loss of the man she loved, but the way she had phrased that last bit had made him think. 

Shoving the thoughts aside, he gestured slightly towards the living room. "May I come in?" Instantly she blushed, and stepped back, pulling the door wide open.

"Of course. Please, do." As he stepped inside and past her, her eyes drifted down over him, curiously, and her smile transformed into a bit of grin. The man may be a werewolf, and may be worn out, and aged before his time, but as he removed his coat, she noted he still had one nice set of buttocks on him.

Her eyes snapped up as he turned around, before he could catch her staring, and although her cheeks were a bit flushed, she still managed an innocent look. "How are you, Professor?" 

"Hermione," He chided her gently, "I've not been your professor for years, now."

"But you definitely earned the title, Pro—Remus. You were the best teacher for DADA that we've ever had!" This brought a pleased, although somewhat self-conscious grin to his lips, and he murmured his thanks before inclining his head towards the sofa fractionally. She instantly understood what he meant, and nodded. "Yes, do sit down! I'm sorry, I just woke up from a bit of a nap and...well..."

"Don't worry. Its quite understandable." He said as he said down upon the sofa, folding his coat up and resting it on his lap. "Join me?" As soon as she was seated, he turned toward her fractionally, and began. "I'm here about Harry. Have you seen him? Talked to him? I'm quite worried...Ginny's death—I'm afraid it might have pushed him too far."

If only you knew, Professor. She thought to herself, but said nothing of her thoughts, instead she shrugged a bit, and then shook her head. "I really haven't seen Harry much." Well, that part was true. "I did meet him at the Three Broomsticks for a bite and a bit of talk. He...well, I think he's fixated on getting revenge." She dropped her eyes as she finished, an unknowing sign that she wasn't telling the complete truth, at least as she saw it, and Remus caught it instantly; and, he filed the information away to discuss with Albus.

"Does he know he's not alone, Hermione? That people still c-still love him? The Weasleys, me..." A searching look at her made him continue without much pause, as he wasn't really surprised. "you. I believe even Dumbledore genuinely cares about him." How does he do that?! Hermione thought, even as she blushed bright red at the discovery of her secret. 

Since there was really no use denying it, she said, "I don't know, Professor. He was so wrapped up in Ginny...I....I just wish that the ...that what I shared with Ron was half as strong as what was between those two." He nodded in understanding, and she went on more firmly. "I think that Harry's decided that someone is going to pay for her death, and he doesn't particularly care if he dies in the process." She didn't really realize the words were true until they left her lips, and then she paled. That would explain why he'd been so blasé about casting the curses he had. Why fear Azkaban when you intended to die long before any questions arose, anyways?

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**To be continued...**


	17. Werewolf Ears and New Ghost Tears

_A/N: Thanks to James Milamber for agreeing to Beta this for me! How cool is that? He's the one that gets me writing again, one of my favorite authors, and NOW my beta! Whoot! Now, if you've not read his story, GO READ IT! Go read it! Go! Go…after you read this chapter that is (grin)_

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"Something's going on, Headmaster." Sitting across from Dumbledore, Remus Lupin leaned forward a bit in an unconscious display of earnestness. "I don't know what, but something is going on."

"With who, Remus?"

"Hermione…Harry. I'm not quite sure. I went to visit Hermione a few days ago, and I could tell she wasn't quite telling the whole truth." At this, Dumbledore nodded and popped a lemon drop in his mouth after silently proffering the tin to his former student, and colleague.

"Mm, well, I'm afraid it's not quite as simple as meeting with her. Miss Gr—Hermione is quite proficient in occulumency." Remus blinked once, and leaned back in his chair.

"Why would Hermione need to learn occulumency?"

"If she were afraid to reveal something, obviously. We must wonder if Harry told her the prophecy…"

"…or if it's something else."

"Precisely. I do trust Hermione; otherwise I would not have let her into the Order. However, it may be prudent to check up on things, I believe." Remus nodded, a bit disconcerted simply because he wanted to be able to trust Harry's best friend, but as his own history had proved, one could not trust another simply because they seemed to be a friend. "I believe Tonks and yourself would be a good team for this particular project, while the rest of us now work on locating Severus." With that, Dumbledore nodded at Remus and got up to walk across to Fawkes, and the werewolf knew that he was dismissed.

Taking it with good grace, he got to his feet, and exited the room, his thoughts already on exactly how they would go about trying to find out what Hermione happened to be hiding. Maybe a visit to Harry was due. _It was due anyways, Moony_, he told himself sternly. He was the last remaining Marauder and Harry was the only Marauder child (that he knew of, at least. Sirius _had _got around a bit). He wasn't exactly a child anymore, but he was a man that had lost his wife, and both of them he held close to his heart.

Rubbing at his face to try and brush away the tiredness that seemed present more and more as the years went on and the war escalated, Lupin nodded at McGonagall as he headed to the Entrance Hall, and as soon as he was outside of the wards, he Disapparated with a pop. Seconds later he was on Harry's front porch, knocking at the door, and sneezing from the particular brand of magic that Harry had used. He was extremely sensitive to some spells.

No one answered immediately, so he knocked again, and after a moment, just as he was getting ready to leave, Harry came to the door, running a hand through his hair, and looking thoroughly perturbed. "Profess-Remus!" Remus could tell the smile he was favored with was a bit forced, and decided this was obviously a bad time, but before he could say anything, in an uncharacteristic move from Harry, he was grabbed by the hand and dragged into the house.

His eyes shifting around, Harry carefully closed the door, and turned to his former Professor. "Do…I…" Exhaling hard, Harry ran his fingers through his hair again, and smiled distractedly at Lupin. "I'm sorry. Welcome, Remus. Its good to see you."

"Thank you, Harry. I came to see how you were doing." A raised brow indicated what he thought the answer would be, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"How do _you_ think I'm doing, Professor? I lost my wife and then my best male friend? I'm just positively _jumping_ for joy." The words were cold, and he regretted them instantly. "Sorry. I'm just a bit off…some weird things have been happening here lately."

"Its alright, Harry. Do you need to talk about it?" Just then it felt like something freezing had settled near his neck, and he felt his jacket being tugged on. Startled, Lupin whirled around only to see nothing, and Harry gave a mirthless laugh.

"Why talk about it when you've just witnessed it yourself? I've not seen anything…but I think…I think I'm being haunted, Professor."

Remus was disconcerted enough that he didn't gently rebuke Harry for calling him Professor, instead he just turned back around, and pulled his suit jacket closed around him. "Ah, yes. I do see what you mean…a spot of tea perhaps?"

"The cure-all." A bit of a grin tugged half-heartedly at Harry's lips and he led the way to the kitchen, talking as he went. "If I could see the…who ever is haunting me, it would be a bit different, but I can't. I mean, I've saw glimpses, but never enough to know for _sure_, and I don't know why anyone would choose this place to haunt. There's only one person that I could think of that would have an attachment to this place, and she's gone on…" He trailed off, and his eyes widened. "Professor…"

"Remus, Harry."

"Ah, sorry." Pointing his wand at the teapot, he murmured the correct incantation, and a few seconds later was pouring tea into the cups already setting on the table. It was only after both of them had been served, and were sitting at the table, that he continued. "Do you think that it could be Ginny? If so, why hasn't she shown herself to me? Why…why would she have stayed? What unfinished business could she have had?"

Sympathy filled Remus, and he had to gather his thoughts as he took a sip of his tea. Eventually, he spoke a bit more softly than usual. "Its possible that she could have stayed on, Harry. Ginny didn't…she didn't die a peaceful death. That is a big part of a spirit staying to become a ghost, I believe. As for unfinished business, I can't really answer that, Harry. That's something only she would know."

/_He always was one of the smarter people._/ From her position watching the both of them, still invisible, Ginny listened with a smile that was sometimes tinged with sadness as they discussed her. /_Far from a peaceful death, I still can't believe Hermione…_/ She took a deep, completely unnecessary breath, and sent up a prayer to whoever up there was listening about Hermione. She knew that the bushy-haired girl was interested in Harry, and she also knew that Harry had already spent a night in her arms. That much was obvious from her dear husband's habit of talking in his sleep at times. It had started in sixth year, more talking than screaming. She wasn't exactly sure if it was some type of weird spell that he'd put on himself, but she wouldn't have put it past him. She also knew how guilty he felt about it, and that was one thing she intended to change.

If he could bring Hermione back, then the two of them would probably be quite good together. /_The mutual pity-parties and all._/ She gasped out loud just then. /_Oh Merlin! I'm channeling Snape!_/ Her mischievous laughter filled the air, but it quieted quickly as she noticed that Remus and Harry were now looking in her direction. /_Well, I do gather that's my cue to 'come out'_/ Brushing her fingers through her hair, and laughing quietly at herself as she realized the unnecessary vanity, Ginny drew on the magic around her, and allowed herself to materialize as she glided slowly over to Harry. "Hello, Harry."

He closed his eyes quickly, face paling, and Lupin immediately stood, coming around the table to lay a hand on the young man's shoulder before turning his attention back to Ginny. "Hello Ginny."

"Professor Lupin." She gave him a kind smile, and he groaned.

"Not you, too."

"Sorry, Pro…Remus." She continued over until she was standing near Harry, and then she spoke softly to her 'former' husband. "Harry? Look at me." Within the minute, Harry opened his eyes, and the sheer pain she saw radiating from them made her wish that she'd not materialized. Not let him known that she hadn't yet moved on.

"Ginny?" He swallowed hard.

"Yes, Harry." Tears trickled down his cheeks, and he reach out a hand to her, trying to grasp her own, and it clenched when as expected, he was unable to make contact with solid flesh. "Oh, Harry…" She knelt down so that she was eye level with him. "I love you."

"I'll…ah…just go in the other room for a bit, shall I?" The graying Order member said, and when it was obvious neither of his former students were paying attention to him, immediately went into the living room, and made a production of turning on the WWN and turning it up a bit to drown out all other sounds from the other rooms in the house.

"Ginny…" He whispered again, and she smiled at him. "I…why are you…why did you…?"

"Why am I here? Why did I stay?" He nodded mutely, and she put a bit of energy into brushing his hair back from his brow, which was as much magic as it was will. Ghosts normally couldn't just move and touch things, unless they were extremely determined, and had been magical when they were alive.

"Because I needed to know you'd be okay, and because I had some things to finish up."

When he started to ask what, she shook her head. "That's something you don't need to worry about, Harry." It was so hard not to call him love, or sweetheart, or any of the other names she'd loved to call him when she was alive. She knew it would do no good to follow even a more than remote semblance of their former relationship. Harry needed to accept that she was gone from his life in the most important ways. /_Plus, when he remarries, I don't think Hermione would take too kindly to a ghostly ex-wife, even if it was Ginny, hanging around._/ "Some things are meant to be kept private."

He swallowed hard again, and murmured "I wish I could touch you." And tears came to her own eyes, something that surprised her until she remembered Moaning Myrtle.

"Harry, I'm worried about you. I know what you've been up to, and it scares me."

"How do you –"

"You still talk in your sleep, love." The endearment slipped out from between her lips before she could stop it, but she was reassured that no "light" came to his eyes from it. Instead they darkened, as he thought about what exactly she had heard.

"I'm not really…" His eyes darted around, looking for Remus, but then he registered the music coming in from the other room, but still mouthed the rest of it. "…a traitor, Gin." His voice went up to a normal level. "I'm just intent on destroying that bastard who did this to you."

"Voldemort?"

"Who else?" He gave her a strange look of confusion, and she hid a sigh of relief. That particular bridge between Harry and Hermione would have to be crossed solely between the two of them.

He didn't notice that she had dismissed his traitor remark; instead he moved on to another subject that was on his mind. "Have I talked about Hermione?"

"About the fact that she's…" It was Ginny's turn to mouth something, " a Death Eater, or the fact that you've slept with her?" He paled even further, dropping his eyes, and started breathing hard. A giggle came to her lips and she started to try and rub his back, but then stopped, realizing it would exhaust her too soon. "Harry, I don't mind that you've been intimate with her," she said truthfully, and when his eyes latched onto hers, she continued. "We aren't married anymore. I'm dead, Harry. Hermione is one of your best friends, there's no one else's hands I'd prefer to have you in. I know, given the chance, she'd love you and take good care of you." /_If she doesn't love you already._/ "About the other thing? People do that for various reasons," she gave him a look that spoke volumes, "as you well know." Then she changed the subject to a safer ground, one that was fairly acceptable when there were other ears around, especially werewolf ears. "Anyways, Harry, I'm not going to be around forever, as soon as I make sure some things are on the way like I hope, I'm going to move on."

"You can do that?" He asked, making a conscious effort to be normal sounding.

She gave him a look that would have made the Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher proud, and drifted into the living room to get Remus' attention. When he noticed her, she smiled and went over to him. "How are you?"

"I've been better." He said with a smile.

"Mm," Her eyes raked over him. "I can see that. Are you still taking the Wolfsbane?"

"I was, but…Severus has gone missing, and he was one of the only Potion Masters skilled enough to make the potion, not to mention the only one that I could afford to get it from, besides you…and obviously I can no longer get it from you?"

She raised a brow. "Are you so sure of that?"

The former professor found himself at a loss for words as she asked him to turn off the radio, and then when he had done so, called for Harry to come join them. "Harry, if I guided you through a potion, do you think you could do it? It's a bit hard, but I have faith in you."

"Er...yeah."

"Good! Then lets go see if you have enough fresh ingredients to make the Wolfsbane potion, eh?"

"WOLFSBANE?" He shouted, and she grinned at him.

"I told you it was a bit hard."

"Mental," he muttered, and she would have thwacked him on the head if it wouldn't have wasted energy. Instead she settled for telling him to stop channeling Ron, before she realized the pain it would bring to his eyes. Luckily, Lupin saved the moment, by asking if they should go ahead then. Mentally shaking himself, Harry nodded and led the way to the cabinet where he kept his potion supplies.

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TBC… (review, please? beg)


	18. The Abyss is at My Side

**_Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been. Never will be. All belongs to JK Rowling._**

**_Author's note: This chapter gave me all sorts of problems, and when you have major writer's block to begin with…lol. Well, as my beta said, he was looking forward to FINALLY reading it, so hopefully y'all are to._**

**_As always, suggestions are welcome_**

* * *

A tall figure in black with sweeping robes entered the room imperiously, and instantly

Harry looked up at him and glared. "Did you even think that maybe, just _maybe_, I might have other people over here? Like Professor Lupin? No, you just come sweeping in here, determined to blow all my plans to Hell!"

"Lupin was here?" Snape asked in consternation, his black brows drawing together over

his prominent nose in a frown.

"Yes, Snape. He just left day before yesterday. The Old Man needed him."

"Why was he here?" Harry narrowed his eyes at the greasy git.

"Because he knows he's welcome, and we were working on the wolfsbane. He was taking notes from Gin, and helping me get set up."

"A medium now, is he?"

"You don't have to be a medium to talk to ghosts, Snivellus."

"My name is Professor Snape, Potter."

"Okay, Sev." Harry half-smirked, having taken quite a bit of pleasure from the expression that came upon Snape's face when he imparted the news that Ginny was a ghost. He didn't really think that Snape would have been that surprised about it, but…

"You impudent little –" He stopped short when he felt the tip of Harry's wand suddenly pressing into his jugular.

"Shut up. I'm not in the mood for it. I've just spent the last three days working on version after version of this blasted potion. So just shut up." For the first time, Snape really looked at Harry, and saw the exhaustion smudges under his eyes, and the darkening of the emerald green.

"You think you're the only one who's ever stayed up working on countless versions of a potion, Potter?" The Potion's Master sneered and batted Harry's wand away, then shook his head in disgusted amusement. "Poor Potter. Just because he's tired we're all supposed to walk on eggshells. After all, he's the boy-wonder. The Boy Who Lived. We should all just fall to –"

"_CRUCIO!_"

Instantly the Potion's Master dropped to the floor, a scream of pain overtaking him before he had time to stop it, from the sheer swift surprise of the attack. Almost instantly, Harry lifted the curse, but not after a small, cold smile had appeared on his lips. "I told you not to piss me off, _Snape_." He said as he slid his wand into the wrist-holster. "Now, Gin said that this was just fine, so I'll bottle it and send it off to Lupin."

Shame was filling him over what he'd just done, but he was determined not to let it show.

Shame because he hadn't used the curse in the heat of battle, but instead had done it simply because he was extremely annoyed, and needed an outlet.

Watching the Potion's Master out of the corner of his eye – after all, he'd just cursed the man – Harry continued on as he began to bottle, "You might want to check the potion." Snape, glowering, got to his feet, and sneered.

"I don't care if the werewolf dies or not."

Harry felt the urge to curse him again.

"I was talking about the one that we're going to use on the Old Man, you Slytherin idiot."

"Harry, be nice…" The words, her favorite rebuke, were whispered into his ear, and he jumped in surprise.

"Ginny?"

"Do you know of any other dead people that are currently floating around your house, Harry?" The words were tinged with amusement, but she never appeared. She'd exhausted herself with the first few days of potions with her former husband. Now it was all she could do to talk to him.

His jaw hardened at the casual way she mentioned her death, and the black-haired young man snapped, "That's not funny, Gin." Then he finished what he was doing, finishing the bottling and cleaning out the potion, then exiting the room to send it off.

_Maybe he's not going to be able to handle me being around,_ Ginny thought as she hovered near him, and resisted an urge to reach out and caress away the anger and pain she saw in him. _Would it be better if I just left?_ She contemplated it momentarily, but with what she'd witnessed just a few minutes ago, she knew she couldn't do that. Harry needed someone to pull him away from the abyss he was so close to; perilously close to at night, in fact. _Too bad I can't write a note, I'd invite Hermione…although I don't think that would go over too well._ Feeling her strength draining, she consciously put a stop to the thinking she was doing, and let herself just float, absorbing the magical energy that the house encapsulated.

On the other side of the room, just as Harry reach the Apparition boundary anddisappeared, the Potion's Master pulled a small white mouse out of his pocket after conjuring a cage for it, and holding it with one hand, pulled a small pipette from the various clutter on the table, and proceeded to test the potion.

Seconds later, casting a dark curse that would only work on something that was well and truly dead, he noted with some surprise that the potion worked.

Now for the antidote… "Sweet dreams, Albus."

Some kilometers away, Harry reappeared outside the anti-Apparition barriers around his former Professor's home. A visibly worried Remus Lupin answered the door, and Harry forced a smile to his lips. "Wolfsbane done, matches specifications exactly, as far as can be told."

Lupin ran his fingers through his hair, and reach out for the box. Having it handed to him, he carefully set it aside, and then motioned towards the wing chairs positioned in front of the fire. "Please, have a seat, Harry."

The Boy Who Lived opened his mouth to say that he had to get going, but unexpectedly, Lupin made a sharp motion with his hand to cut off any protest. "Have. A. Seat. Harry." He said clearly and sternly.

Surprised, Harry meekly did as was told, and wondered what was going on. A minute later, he found out.

"I know."

Long black lashes came together and back apart several times. _Oh Hell…_ "You know what, Professor?"

"About you…about Voldemort." Harry swallowed hard.

"About the fact that I'm to kill him?" He asked quietly.

"About the fact that you've joined him." Tears were in Lupin's eyes as he sank down on his knees in front of Harry, much like he'd do if talking to a small child. "Why, Harry?" He couldn't help but ask. "What would make you join that monster, after all he's done."

He wanted to tell him the truth.

He needed to tell him the truth.

He couldn't tell him the truth, not about his plans.

"Because with Ginny gone, I have nothing else to live for."

As he expected, the former DADA professor's expression hardened, but then he said something that took him quite off-guard. "You're lying. I can smell it. So, I'll ask again, Harry James Potter. Why did you join Voldemort?"

Harry lifted his chin a bit, and stared back at Lupin. "Because it was something that I had to do." He said cryptically, and his companion sighed before rising wearily to his feet.

"I never thought I'd have to say this, Harry. I never thought I'd find myself thinking this, much less saying this." He took a deep breath, and went on. "Your parents would be so disappointed in you."

Instantly, emerald green eyes flashed ice, and Harry shot to his feet. "WELL, I WOULDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT WOULD I? I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER MY FATHER, AND ALL I REMEMBER OF MY MOTHER ARE HER SCREAMS!"

Lupin matched ice with fire. "Exactly, Harry! Her dying screams! She died to save you _from_ Voldemort! Not to make it so you could grow up and join him!"

"SHE DIED TO SAVE THE WORLD'S WEAPON!"

_Crack!_ The sound of Remus Lupin striking him echoed throughout the room, and then silence fell.

"You listen to me, Harry. You listen with all that you can." He said coldly. "Your mother died to save her son. To save Harry James Potter. Now, you need to get off the ego trip you're on. I never thought I'd agree with Severus on this, but it seems to be a day for "never thought's", doesn't it? You are rather arrogant. Thinking that you're the "world's weapon". I know about the prophecy, so yes, I agree, you were supposed to fight Voldemort, but you are-weren't going to take on everything alone! And what, Harry? Do you think after he dies, that peace will reign forever? Because it won't. Dark rises. It always rises…and Good is always there to fight it."

He let the tears run down his cheeks unashamedly as he confronted the boy he'd been an unofficial godfather to. "This was never about Harry versus Voldemort. This has always, and will always be about Good versus Evil, Harry. So." He didn't know what made him ask this last question, but he knew he had to. "What side are _you_ on?"

"I'm on the only side I can be on, Professor." Harry said quietly, face pale except for the red mark where Lupin had struck him. "My side." He nodded in the direction of the potion he had placed on the table, and then looked at Lupin. "The wolfsbane is safe. On that you have my word. Take it, or not."

With those words, the Harry that could laugh and tease seemed to disappear, and with a small bow, Harry then walked out of the house to find the edge of the anti-Apparition wards that his former professor had put up, and was gone.

He wasn't angry.

He wasn't sad.

He was just determined more than ever to finish this, and die in the process.

The abyss he'd been looking into was now more inviting than ever.

And he was decided.

He would not become the next Dark Lord.

* * *

_Thanks to all those that have reviewed. I'm not going to name them off, but you know who you are, so thanks. Btw- looking for good stories to read, anyone know some good finds not already on my favorites?_

_-Aeri_


	19. Changes of the Slytherin Kind

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been. Never will be. All belongs to JK Rowling, except Isabelle.**

_A/N: For any of you who might be reading my beta's story, Harry Potter and the Mind Mage, a character in here might look very familiar. Yes, it IS Isabelle. Older of course, but it is her._

_In this chapter, James is much more of a co-writer than a beta, since I asked him to do Isabelle._

_Btw: READ HIS STORY!_

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* * *

His scar burned. 

He welcomed the pain.

Looking up from the instructions for the antidote that Snape had carefully written out, Harry felt the grating voice of Voldemort enter his mind. _A meeting, my fallen one._

He sighed. He really didn't feel like going there. Although maybe he deserved the curses he would get, and he knew he would get them. "Yes, my lord." He thought, and shuddered still at the fact he was actually calling Voldemort that. Soon enough, Voldemort gave him the visualization he needed to come to the meeting place.

Gathering his robe and mask, Harry swiftly dressed and made his way to the edge of the Apparition wards.

As soon as he arrived, the curse hit him from out of the blue, it seemed. It was before he had even had a chance to register his surroundings. Much like Snape, he let out a scream of pain before he could stop it, and when the curse was finally let up, it was then that Harry sensed the irony. _Paybacks a bitch, I guess._ He stood then, statue proud before Voldemort, who 'graced' him with a smile that was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. "How is the poison" Harry coldly smirked. "It is done." Pleased, Voldemort waved him away, and turned to look at the circle of Death Eaters surrounding him. "It is almost time. We will succeed." He stated this with such confidence that the truly loyal Death Eaters began cheering whole-heartedly.

When everything had quieted down, and Voldemort began to speak again, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Someone was watching him. He looked around the circle furtively, trying to figure out who it was, but as everyone was masked, it was a useless action. Frowning, he thought perhaps it was Hermione, and shrugged it off. They did need to talk, but he wasn't in the mood for it yet, and there were more important things to concentrate on.

Finally, the gathering was over, and they had been released to go after paying the proper homage. Getting to his feet, he walked a few feet away, and began to Disapparate. Just as his body started to shift from one place to the next, he felt a tug on his sleeve, and a drain of his energy. He'd pulled a passenger along.

A second later, he was outside the wards of his home, and he turned to the cloaked figure he'd brought along with him. "Dammit, Hermione! What the bloody hell do you think you were doing! I could have splinched us when you pulled that stupid trick"

"Hardly, Potter." The figure pulled back her hood and removed her mask, revealing not Hermione, but someone only vaguely familiar. Her long hair was a deep shade of black, which contrasted to her pale skin. Her eyes were very dark, and her features defined, almost regal. She smirked at Harry's dumbstruck expression. "Really, I'd thought the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Join-Voldemort would be a little harder to catch unawares, but you made it almost painfully easy."

Harry fingered his wand, which he'd flipped into his hand with ease, and stared at the girl he vaguely recognized. His mind sifted quickly through his years at Hogwarts as he tried to put a name to the face. Finally, it came to him. "Isabelle? What the bloody hell are you doing as one of Vold-one of us? I thought you were a 'good Slytherin.'" He put a sneer on the last words, trying to keep his act up, even though he had been caught very off guard, and was thoroughly cursing himself for it.

"You'd have thought so," was all she said. "But you…now there's the real question. What is the Golden Boy of Gryffindor doing working with the Dark Lord, hmm? Perhaps…a little internal sabotage?" Her dark eyes narrowed as she stared at him, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling they were boring holes right through to his soul.

Stiffening up, he waved his wand at his robe and mask, transporting them into the house, and then replied. "All of you Slytherins are exactly alike. You all think that everyone else has something up their sleeves. Did it ever occur to you that just maybe I was tired of being on the losing side"

Isabelle gave a rather un-ladylike snort. "Oh, of course, Slytherins are all the same! I happen to know for a fact that you were almost Sorted into Slytherin yourself, so don't get all high and mighty on me, Potter. I know your excuse for joining the Dark Lord, but I don't believe a word of it. So tell me, are you going to come clean or am I going to report you as a traitor, hmm?" She stepped away from him and prepared to Disapparate.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, and had his wand at her throat in an instant. "What is it with females making accusations and then trying to run away? Oh wait, I forgot. All Slytherins know how to do is run away." His green eyes were cold, like glittering chips of polished emeralds. "Tell me, just what evidence do you have that makes you think that I'm a traitor to Voldemort? You've seen me at the meetings, you've seen me curse and be cursed, and you've heard the report of the potion I'm working on, so just where is your bloody evidence, Snake"

Isabelle looked at him coldly, ignoring the wand at her throat. "Yes, and Snape did all that too, for much longer than you have, and look at him. Traitor, all these years. So tell me, Potter, where's your proof that you're not following the same path as our dear Professor? And, just for the record…" Before Harry could even twitch she lifted her wand, which she had drawn discretely and held behind her back, and blasted him clean across the yard. "No one threatens me and gets away with it, not even you. Understood?"

As he picked himself up off the ground, a hand to his stomach, Harry thought wryly that today was just not his day. For some reason, the thought was enough to make him smile. That smile grew cold though as he walked near the Slytherin again. "I don't threaten." He said shortly, and then tilted his head to the side, studying her. "How d'you know about Snape?"

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" Isabelle glared at him for a moment, then laughed wryly. "That was quicker than I expected, to tell you the truth." She looked at him appraisingly. "Sorry about the whole…you know," she made a vague gesture with her wand, still held tightly in her right hand. "I got a bit carried away, I suppose. So…is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Harry sighed, and rolled his eyes before pointing at the house not thirty yards away. "House. Rooms. Silencing charms. Do you think I'm a bloody idiot" After a short pause, and seeing Isabelle's eyebrow shoot towards her hairline, he shook his head. "Do not answer that. I have a feeling I'd be ready to curse you for the answer." Turning his back to her, but still holding his wand, he made his way to the house, and paused at the door. Whispered words and quick wand movements made the door glow, and he looked back at her. "Place your hand on the door so the wards will recognize you." His tone was flat, but at the same time, there was a hint of amusement lurking.

"A bit paranoid, are we?" she asked dryly, switching her wand over to her left hand and placing her right palm flat against the glowing wood. She gave a small yelp of surprise when a shock coursed through her body, and her hand seemed to sink into the panels of the door momentarily. After a short while the wards glowed brighter, and she found she could remove her hand.

"Oh, very funny, Potter," she muttered when she saw him smirking at her. "The chivalrous thing to do would be to _warn_ me you have some bloody ward system up that's going to electrocute me, you know. Very…_Slytherin_…of you."

The boy-who-lived smirked. "I'm supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world. Nobody ever said I had to be chivalrous." He motioned her aside, and then opened the door and went inside, knowing that she would follow. As soon as they were in the living room, he waved his wand and uttered the words that sent a heavy blanket of magic temporarily onto the room, and there was absolute silence for a moment before he spoke. "That should do it. Quite a powerful little charm, really."

"I take it back – you've got paranoia to an art form." Isabelle shook her head as she took a seat on a comfortable looking armchair. "So, Mister Potter, are you willing to tell me what you're doing now, or do we have to go through the whole 'tell me what you know' phase first? The first would save time, but if I must, I'd be willing to divulge certain facts to you…with conditions, of course." She watched him expectantly.

Harry seated himself in the chair across from her, and settled comfortably, crossing his legs at the ankles, and looking utterly and deceptively lazy. "Well, if you must know, I plan on slipping a poison to Dumbledore, putting the Old Man out of commission, and then, when the last battle occurs, Dumbledore will..." here he sneered"magically reappear alive, after the antidote of course, and hopefully shock the hell out of Voldemort...giving me a chance to kill and be killed." He laughed, but it was an empty sound. "Or just maybe I'm tired of being lied to, and treated like I'm only a weapon." There was truth in this statement, as much as there was in the last one. "And I intend to kill Dumbledore to get the annoying Old Man out of the way, do away with Voldemort, and do things...my way."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed, and she watched the man sitting across from her carefully, looking for anything he might give away in his body language – but there was nothing. He appeared the very image of lazily relaxed. She toyed with the thought of pulling the truth from him with Legillimency, but quickly discarded the idea. If he could keep the Dark Lord and Dumbledore out of his mind, what chance did she have? "I'll be frank with you, Harry." She dropped the formality and leaned forward in her seat. "I was visiting with one Remus Lupin before the meeting was called."

Immediately, Harry's mood darkened even further, and he raised a hand to his cheek in remembrance of the slap that Lupin had delivered. Sitting up a bit, he inclined his head towards Isabelle in acknowledgement of what she'd said, and then said coolly"And let me guess, the Professor gave you the whole spiel about knowing that I joined Voldemort, and that I'd said things that made him wonder what side I was really on. So you, the good little double-agent I'm assuming you are, decided to try to find things out for yourself." He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair, and then said quietly"Look, I'll tell you the same thing I tell everyone. I'm doing what I need to do. I'm on no one's side now but my own. I fully intend to die when this is over. Is that clear? I have no reason to go on without Ginny." Instantly his mind flashed to Hermione, and he shook the thought away. What happened between him and 'Mione... well, he still needed to think on it.

Isabelle nodded thoughtfully, tapping three fingers of her right hand against her cheek. "Yes, I suppose I can understand that. I felt the same way myself for a time, after I killed my mother – I'm assuming you knew Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry's face darkened further, and he gave a curt nod. "I understand what you're feeling, believe me I do – which is why I sought you out. You were right, except for one thing. I didn't do it to find out what side you were on – it's not that difficult to see, if one isn't burdened with all that Gryffindor nobility. I came to offer my assistance."

A jet-black brow was raised, and he considered her for a moment, and then said"Alright, assistance accepted. Does Dumbledore truly trust you? We're not telling the old man about our plans, and we need someone to slip him the poison."

Isabelle thought a moment, gazing absently at the ceiling. "I meet with him once a week, I have a direct Floo connection to his office," she answered. "But I'm the only one there, so it would be obvious who had done it." A thought occurred to her. "Were the rumours making the rounds at Hogwarts true? About that mad House Elf that adored you? Would it be possible to enlist him, maybe?"

Harry nodded, but stayed silent, as his mind whirled with the possibilities. At first he had thought that Snape would be able to do it, but that simply wasn't true. A sigh escaped his lips. He wasn't good at this planning thing, he was more used to reacting on his feet. As he thought though, his eyes wandered over to Isabelle, and he surveyed her appraisingly. Absentmindedly noting that she had a rather pleasing look about her, he shifted slightly in his chair. "Dobby? Yeah. I still see him occasionally. In fact I think the little bugger's been cleaning my house, because I certainly am not doing it."

He frowned. "I don't know if I'll be able to get him to do something like that. I'd have to explain everything, and since he's not my house elf, I can't order him into silence." He brought up calloused fingers to rub at the bridge of his nose. "We'll see."

* * *

Hermione sighed, brushing back a lock of hair, and then, irritated, she conjured a hair clip, and lifted her hair up off the base of her neck, and out of her eyes. Swiftly she slipped on the clip, and then gave a sigh of relief. _Really, I ought to get this cut someday,_ she thought as she opened the huge tome entitled "Mind Magics" by James Milamber and began to skim through the contents. 

She knew exactly what she was looking for, but so far she'd not been able to find it.

She was determined to break the threads of allure that held her to Voldemort.

She would serve him of her own free will, or she would not serve him at all. That was the way things had to be. Hermione Granger wasn't going to be kept in by silken threads of the web he'd weaved around her. Harry had given her the motivation to break free. And she would.

Her fingers flipping quickly through the pages, she was getting a bit depressed about the lack of findings, when the second to last chapter in the book lit up as she touched it. "Well, that's strange." She murmured. "I've not seen that charm before on a book." It had disconcerted her for a moment, but her mind swiftly got back on track.

As she read, her lips first parted, and then began to edge up in a smile. This was the right track. Finally, she at least had an idea of how she was bound to Voldemort. Now if only to find the spell to break it. _That would be tricky though,_ She thought. _To break it without my lo-Voldemort finding out about it._

She brought one hand to rest over the dark mark, which was still burning after the meeting they had had earlier. At least then Voldemort had been pleased; Hermione was worried though. The conversation that Harry and the Dark Lord had had about the poison disturbed her. She had to get word to Dumbledore…but how?

How could she do it without giving away the fact that she was Death Eater? Does one just go up to the arguably most powerful wizard alive and say, "Umm, excuse me, I joined the Death Eaters, and I think the boy-who-lived is planning on killing you. I'm not saying this because I'm on your side, because I'm not sure what side I'm on. I just thought you should know," and then walk away free?

Hardly.

* * *

_A/N: Well, chapter 19 is done. Hard to believe I got it out so soon, eh? The benefits of bugging your beta senseless, I guess. Gets the creative juices flowing._

_I still need to steal one of his muses though._

Thanks to those that have reviewed. J


	20. A Traitor Revealed

_NOTE: See, its not abandoned! I just needed my beta around to prod me!_

**Disclaimer: D'you really think JK Rowling would kill off …..beep**

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When was the last time something had gone exactly according to plan for anyone?

It never seemed to go that way for Harry.

He didn't know why this plan would have been the exception.

Staring blindly at the paper in his hands, he didn't pay any attention to the owl that had delivered it until it leaned over and bit him rather sharply on the back of the hand.

"Bloody bird!" He spat, and with a flick of his wand and an almost silent incantation, the bird bothered him no more.

It appeared, for the Boy-Who-Lived, that bird blood and feathers was the latest decorative craze.

Paying it no attention, he forced himself to move his eyes below the horrific picture that took up over half of the page.

Numbly, he read the small writing below.

_Hermione Granger-Weasley's body was found this morning by the gates leadings to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_This is shocking enough in itself, but what really surprised this reporter was the dark Mark etched on arm of the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. With the both of his best friends now gone, one has to wonder...Will Potter crack? Or did he perhaps take the life of Hermione Granger-Weasley? …Rita Skeeter._

Everything went red.

All the glassware in the house that did not have unbreakable charms on it promptly shattered.

Voldemort's laughing voice echoed in his head, and his scar seared.

"SONOFA--" He gathered his magic to him, and Apparated to the Hogwarts' gates.

The force of his anger slammed the doors open to the Great Hall when he was ten feet away.

He barely remembered the walk to the Headmaster's office.

The next time he was truly conscious of what he was doing, he had Dumbledore up against a wall, his wand pressing into the old man's throat.

"YOU KILLED HER!"

The wizened wizard looked at him with sad blue eyes. "No, Harry, I did not."

"Bullshit!" The green-eyed young man spat.

Dumbledore reach up, touched his fingers to the wand pressed against his throat, and carefully eased it aside. "Her choices killed her, Harry. Hermione was a supporter of the Dark Lord, though it was not her fault. She was willing to try to make good for her choices."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and took a few steps away, keeping his wand trained on the Headmaster as he assimilated the information. "So you did kill her," Dumbledore started to object, but Harry overrode him. "Because you foolishly believe that everyone in your precious Order can be trusted, you revealed Hermione as a spy. The information was leaked back to Voldemort." His voice got progressively colder as he continued. "So, you killed her, old man. Not her choices, but YOU!"

By the time he was done, Dumbledore's eyes were gleaming with unshed emotion.

Harry sneered at the sight. "I'm sure in the hundred plus years that you've lived, you've learned how to fake emotion, so forgive me if I don't fall all over myself to tell you I believe you, I forgive you. I don't." He gave him a calculating look, feeling something die inside. "I know I've got at least three people's blood on my hands, Dumbledore, but how many do you have on yours?"

With that, he turned and walked away, calling out one name as he left Hogwarts.

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"Harry Potter sir called for Dobby?" The elf wrung his hands as he looked at the distressed man who had just plopped down on the couch with a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand.

"Yes, I need to know something, Dobby…Would you want to come work for me? Be my…friend and get paid?" He took a long swallow of the whiskey as he waited for Dobby's answer, which was swift in coming.

"Dobby would be delighted, Harry Potter sir!"

There was a noise from the front of the house, and the sound of the front door banging open. "Harry? Harry, are you here? Answer me, damn it!"

Harry sighed, and started to push to his feet to go answer the door. However, it just seemed like too much effort, and he plopped back against the cushions, hollering out. "Yes, now bloody go away!" He looked at Dobby. "You need to go to the Headmaster and turn in your sock, or whatever, Dobby. As soon as possible."

"Dobby will go immediately, Harry Potter sir!" The hyperactive little creature replied, and disappeared with a pop.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," Isabelle said as she entered the room, sitting in the same chair she had before. "Now, Potter, talk. What the bloody hell happened? I read the paper, I heard about Hermione's death."

He rolled his eyes. He really wasn't in the mood to put up with anyone, much less Isabelle. "Good for you. You can read. Now go the hell away." He said bluntly, and took another swallow of the drink he clutched with a death grip.

"Yes, I can read. It's called an education, and yours is clearly lacking in manners." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Now, talk."

"What is there to say?" He said, giving in. Part of him knew he needed to talk about this. "Hermione revealed that she was a Death Eater. Apparently she volunteered to spy for the Order..." His eyes flashed stone-cold. "...and Dumbledore announced it to them because, of course, NO one would leak information. It got back to Voldemort. Hermione died."

Isabelle's expression grew steadily angrier as he spoke. When he finished, she swore under her breath. "I knew something like this would happen, I bloody warned him!" she flared. "I told him weeks ago he had a spy, and he assured me that wasn't possible!"

"Yes, well, he's Dumbledore. You know, the great all-knowing wizard..." The next words he muttered about Dumbledore were not the type to be repeated in the presence of young ones, or those with delicate senses.

"Well, I've had just about enough of this bollocks," Isabelle said darkly. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

He stared down at the bottle in his hands for a long moment, and then raised his eyes up to Isabelle's. "Dobby is handing in his sock to Dumbledore as we..." Just then, the small elf appeared, and proudly handed over the ragged black sock to Harry. "…speak." He thanked Dobby absently, and said to Isabelle. "I'm moving things ahead, but quite frankly...I have no clue what to do next."

Isabelle scowled at the wall for a long moment, contemplating the step she knew she was now obliged to take. "I've been thinking about this for a long while now," she started slowly. "Since long before our last little chat. I've never really been happy about the way Dumbledore runs things, but at the time he was far preferable to Voldemort. Now…I don't know." She stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing. "You need a way to get that potion of yours to Dumbledore. Alright, I'll take it."

Harry raised a brow, and glanced in Dobby's direction, then shrugged. He didn't care either way. "Alright." He said simply, and got to his feet, heading towards the potion room. "It's done enough. If it kills the old man...oh well."

Isabelle stood and followed him. "I doubt it will," she said, and there was a faint note of regret in her voice. "He's a crafty old bugger, I'll give him that. I'm sure he's got safeguards to stop this sort of thing."

He nodded, and sighed regretfully. Harry had been teetering on the abyss, and very clear about the fact that he stood alone now, only for himself, but after what had happened...He was tired of it. So, once in the potion's room, he quickly bottled a small flask of the poison, and handed it to Isabelle. "It's up to you how you get it to him, you're the bloody Slytherin. Just make sure you're quick about it. Snape'll probably show up soon, and he doesn't need to know we've already begun."

Isabelle nodded curtly, balancing the vial thoughtfully in her palm. "His lemon drops, I think," she said with a smirk. "He'll never see it coming."

"Whatever," Harry said, and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "I've got spells to study. Feel free to show yourself out." A moment later, he was in the bedroom, closing his door behind him. After a short time, he heard the sound of soft footsteps just outside his door. Harry stood in the slight darkness, his eyes closed.

"You're not alone in this, Harry," Isabelle said just loud enough for him to hear. "I want to help you, if you'll let me. I know we've never exactly been on good terms, but…well…oh, forget it. Why should you care?" The footsteps started again, fading rapidly towards the front of the house.

He rested his head against the wood of the door as Isabelle left, and it was a long moment later that he said into the silence, "I can't care. Not anymore..."


	21. The Wizened Wizard Easily Withered

**Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowlings. No HBP spoilers, and there will never be any.**

A/N: See? Another chapter already! I just needed my beta on my tail. You'll notice Isabelle Lestrange is becoming more and more integral to the story. It's a nice surprise, even for me, as it definitely wasn't planned. She was originally just going to have a small part. This works so much better though. In this chapter, James Milamber is definitely more co-writer than beta, as he 'plays' Isabelle.

Anyways, without further ado…and be forewarned…things are picking up a bit!

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Burning day was always a wonderful time, Albus Dumbledore reflected as he gently stroked the ashes up around the newly reborn Fawkes. Even when things seemed to crumble, there was always change, always a reason for hope. It was with that in mind, though his eyes lacked their usual customary twinkle since his confrontation with Harry, that the old man exited his office, and headed towards the Hogwarts kitchen.

He could so do with some shepherd's pie.

From a perch on a high windowsill, a small raven with a single white feather above its brow watched with curious eyes as the Headmaster of Hogwarts left his office. As the door swung closed, it launched itself into the air and swooped down to land behind the large mahogany desk. As the bird's clawed feet touched the ground, it seemed to shimmer. After a few seconds the shimmering stopped – and in place of the bird, a young woman with pitch black hair with a single small white streak above her temple crouched behind the desk, out of sight of the portraits that lined the walls of the office.

Isabelle Lestrange withdrew her wand from its place of concealment within her robes and flicked it in six-sided star pattern. "_Tenebrae_," she whispered. There was an odd sensation, as if all the air was being pulled forcibly out of the room, and quite suddenly the room was filled with darkness so absolute you could easily be mistaken into thinking you had simply stepped into a black hole.

There were several cries of alarm from the portraits as Isabelle quickly followed the edge of the desk around to where she knew the Headmaster kept his small bowl full of lemon drops. She quickly located the item in question, withdrew a small vial from its hiding place inside her sleeve, and poured the contents over the sweets. There were a few muted popping noises, and then all was still. With a satisfied smirk on her lips, Isabelle pocketed the now empty vial and her wand, and made the change once again. By the time the Darkness spell had worn off, she was once again safely perched on the high windowsill. The portraits were looking around in confusion, a few of them holding whispered conversations, but none seemed to have the slightest clue as to what had happened. Secure in the knowledge that Dumbledore's fate was sealed, Isabelle settled down to wait for his return.

A half an hour had passed before Dumbledore entered his office again, and immediately sat down in his favorite chair. Already, his mind was straying back towards the recent confrontation with Harry, and the sight of Hermione Granger-Weasley's dead body. It was, he suspected, an image that would stay with him as had all the other deaths he'd borne witness to throughout the years.

A twinge of pity for Harry flashed through him. It was, after all, one of the boy's best friends, and he'd had to find out about it from a picture in the Daily Prophet. Albus couldn't blame him for being…a little upset.

Sighing, he tried to push the subject out of his mind, and did so quite effectively given his Occulumency training. Deciding to freshen his breath with a lemon drop after that rather delicious bit of pie, he reached for the bowl…and absently popped one in his mouth.

At first he couldn't tell any noticeable difference. His lemon drops always tasted a bit odd right after he'd eaten something else. However, within the minute, he knew something was wrong. A curiously light-headed feeling had overtaken him, as though he was being inundated with oxygen. This was followed by a swift pain that stabbed through him, and caused him to, by pure reflex, bring one hand up to clutch at his chest. And then Albus Dumbledore knew no more as he slipped into the black oblivion provided by the poison that may or may not have been delivered before it was fully ready.

_Sorry, Albus_, Isabelle thought as she took flight once more, out the window and up into the clear sky. _That one's for Harry._

Two hours later, fresh from a meeting with Voldemort, Severus Snape entered Dumbledore's office and for once in his life…was speechless. The sight of the most powerful wizard in the world slumped over in his chair, one hand clutching at his robe, with mouth open and eyes staring vacantly ahead struck him hard.

"Merlin…" Snape breathed after a moment, and rushed forward to check to see if the old man happened to be breathing at all. Unceremoniously tossing Albus' beard over the back of his chair, Snape placed his shaking fingers to the wizened wizard's throat, and then slowly raised his hand up to remove the man's half-moon glasses, and gently close his eyes.

Rising to his feet, Snape went to the fireplace, and after putting a dash of the green powder into the flames, he called for Madam Pomfrey. "You need to come immediately, Pomfrey. The Headmaster is…has been attacked. Poison…" It was then that he remembered the poison that he and Potter had been working on.

"Bloody hell." The last time he'd checked on the poison, it had been nowhere _near_ ready. Even Potter had known that. That could only mean one thing. The Granger girl's death must have pushed him completely over the edge.

Ignoring Madam Pomfrey's cry of shock, he exited the office at such a speed that had his robes taking the term "billowing" to a new level. As soon as he was outside of the Hogwarts gates, he Apparated and came face to face with a mildly shocked-looking Potter.

"Snape." Harry said in greeting.

Severus' reply was short and to the point. "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Harry didn't even have time to blink before a female voice shouted a second spell. The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to flicker briefly, almost like a bad television signal, and the jet of green light passed straight through him and impacted on the wall behind him, leaving a large black scorch mark.

"And they say the killing curse can't be blocked…" Harry said wryly, as he drove his fist into Snape's jaw and sent him sprawling. He turned emerald green eyes to Isabelle. "Guess those who said that never had a Slytherin 'round at the right moment." He blinked, and then one corner of his mouth tugged up in a slight grin. "Well, a good one, at least."

Isabelle curtsied impishly. "One does one's best," she said with a smirk. "Now, what are we going to do about his dark snarkiness here?" She indicated the prone form of the Potions Professor, who was clutching his jaw with one hand and groping for his wand with the other. Isabelle prudently Summoned it, pocketing it along with her own.

Harry turned his gaze to Snape with an expression of extreme distaste, and cocked his head to the side as he pretended to survey the Potions Master. "Kill him?" He said in a tone that was half sarcasm, half hopefulness.

"It's a thought," Isabelle said in a similar tone, enjoying the sight of what little colour remained in Snape's sallow face draining away. "He quite obviously knows who poisoned that meddling old coot, so it's not like we can really just let him go."

"On the other hand, I'm the Golden Boy of the Wizarding world, and he's known far and wide as a brilliant Potions Master…and an evil git." Harry grinned at Isabelle, even as he withdrew his wand from his holster, and pointed it at Snape. In an affected tone, he went on. "Dumbledore…dead? Poisoned! I always knew Snape was still working for Voldemort, the evil git! Still, I can't believe he'd poison Albus!"

Isabelle grinned viciously back. "Kills two birds with one stone…I like it. Very Slytherin of you, Mister Potter."

"Mm," Harry replied noncommittally. "Anyways, it'd be no less than he deserved, the ruddy idiot." Harry gave his full attention to Snape, who was easing himself to his feet. "What the bloody hell were you on about? How many times do I have to knock you flat before you stop barging into my home? Potions fumes affected your brain _that_ badly, Snivellus?"

Snape sneered, and straightened his clothes. "No more so than all those games of Quidditch affected yours, Potter. At least I have the common sense to know when a potion is ready, and not administer it before that point. Albus Dumbledore is DEAD, Potter! You just killed the one truly good hope that our side had, you dundering idiot!" As he spoke, he drew himself up, until he was practically towering over Harry, flecks of spittle flying from his lips in his rage.

"Control yourself, Snivellus, and stop spitting all over the place," Isabelle said coldly. "We're not on 'your' side anymore, so shut your bloody mouth before I shut it for you – permanently."

Severus whirled around to face Isabelle. "What's this, Lestrange, your time of the month?" He smirked at her. "Had Potter between your legs already, and he wasn't good enough?"

Isabelle eyed him with contempt. "Is that really the best you can come up with, Snape? And to think I actually used to respect you. Oh how the mighty have fallen."

Splotches of color rose on Snape's sharp cheekbones, and he stared at her for a long moment, and then looked at Harry. "Albus trusted you, Potter." His tone was his perpetual sneer. "Just like that mutt did…like Granger and Weasley did. Now you see why I've never had the slightest urge to become your…friend. I prefer to stay alive." It was deliberate, and very cruel. Snape had been embarrassed, and so he lashed out with full acerbic strength.

A split second after he finished speaking, Snape found himself once again sprawled out on the floor. Isabelle stood over him, rubbing her knuckles absently, as the Potions Master spat blood. "You just don't get it, do you?" she sneered down at him. "You really don't, and for that I almost pity you. You've been alone your whole life, and you never realised _why_. It's much more fun to sit down in your bloody dungeons, whining and bitching about it. You're pathetic, Snape, you really are. Harry's ten times the man you are – ten times what you could ever be." She glanced up at Harry, her dark eyes snapping. "Do you want to deal with him, or shall I? I'm a little pissed off right now, so I might end up imploding his head instead. It's so easy to mispronounce spells, don't you find?"

The Boy-Who-Lived was more pale than normal as he looked at Isabelle, and then gave an expressive shrug of his shoulders before speaking. "As far as I'm concerned, it could be as simple as Severus Snape poisoning Albus Dumbledore, and then taking his own life because he didn't want to face Azkaban, coward that he is." He pointed his wand at the Potions Master. "I'd love to kill you, but unfortunately you're still one of Voldemort's little pets, and more privy to information from him than I am." Here, only drawing a single breath, he said firmly, "Obliviate!" and then curled his lip in disgust as Snape's expression showed his confusion, and returning awareness. "How dare you barge in here and accuse me of sleeping with Isabelle! It's none of your bloody business who or what I do. Get the hell out of here, and go whine to Albus about how hard your life is or whatever you do!"

"Well, that was fun," Isabelle said brightly after the front door had swung shut after a still slightly confused Snape. "I've wanted to hit him for years now."

Harry blinked, and stared at Isabelle as his brain processed all the information that had been shoved at him. Finally, completely off subject, he said "So, from that little encounter I gather that you successfully slipped the poison to the Old Man?"

"Of course I did, and it was almost pitifully easy. A simple Darkness spell circumvented every one of his security measures. At least poisoning the Dark Lord would be a bit of a challenge."

The jet-haired young man quirked an eyebrow at her, and then shook his head in bemusement. "So, Miss Lestrange…now what?"

Isabelle hesitated a moment, then shrugged exaggeratedly. "Now, I suppose we wait for the news to get back to Voldemort." It was quite obvious this was not what she had wanted to say.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Things are going to move a lot faster now, I think." He beckoned to Isabelle, and led the way into the kitchen. It was only after he had them both glasses of pumpkin juice that he spoke again. "Do you think you'll make it? Alive…I mean. After all this…its going to get rather bad, I'd imagine. I don't plan on be…thank you for poisoning Dumbledore. I couldn't have pulled it off."

Isabelle watched him curiously over the rim of her glass, idly running her fingers around the rim. "Will I still be alive? I hope so, and…I hope you are too. Maybe you don't expect to survive, but I know I'll do everything I can to help you do just that."

He made a soft sound of amusement, and took a long drink of his pumpkin juice. "I've lost Ginny, Hermione, and Ron." He said simply, and then after a moment, "Forgive me if I'm looking forward to peace after my job is done." It was an ambiguous remark at best.

"Don't make me slap you, Mister Potter," Isabelle snapped. "You'll give me your word right now that you'll not go looking to get yourself killed, or so help me, I'll go straight to the Dark Lord and tell him what you've got planned. Don't for a second think I won't!"

Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at Isabelle's words, but he was silent for a long moment as his gaze rested upon her face in admiration. Finally though, he said quietly "I'm not the type to kill myself, Isabelle. Gryffindor, remember?"

Isabelle gave a very un-ladylike snort. "Do you really think I'm going to rely on a school House you were Sorted into by an old hat when you were eleven? I want your word, Harry, and I want it now. Promise me you'll not deliberately put yourself in danger."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "You cannot be serious. Isabelle, common sense should tell you, from all the times Voldemort has been after me when he could have been going after Dumbledore, that this final fight will ultimately come down to me and him. You can't expect me to _not_ put myself in danger. I'm not going to run away from this with my tail tucked between my legs."

"Of course you're not, don't be ridiculous. But I don't want you doing some ridiculous martyr act and dying right after you kill the Dark Lord, either. I know you, Potter, better than you might like. I've watched you for years now, and I don't want you getting any…ideas once you've dispatched Voldemort."

He paused in the process of lifting his glass to his lips, and said dryly, "I'm touched…and a little weirded out. You've watched me for years? Should I be concerned, Miss Lestrange?"

"Don't change the subject," she growled, although a faint blush tinted her pale face.

"She blushes!" He said triumphantly, and then took a drink of his pumpkin juice before leaning forward in his seat and saying seriously, "I promise you, Isabelle Lestrange, that I will not get any ideas about ending my life in any way, shape or form after I kill Voldemort." And he meant what he said, too. Exactly what he had said.

She looked at him suspiciously, clearly trying to find something wrong with what he'd said. "Fine," she said shortly, draining the rest of her pumpkin juice. "Don't you have anything stronger?" she asked, making a face.

Harry waved absently in the direction of the living room, and his liquor cabinet. "There's Firewhiskey. Help yourself."

"I think I will," Isabelle left the room and returned a moment later with the bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses. "I think we have much to celebrate, not least of which that we both got to knock Snivellus around a bit."

"I'll drink to that," Harry grinned at her, taking the full glass she offered and raising it in a toast. "To knocking Snivellus around a bit!" Isabelle raised her own glass mock-gravely, and they both drank.

"Much better," Isabelle sighed, pouring herself another glass. "I used to get so bloody bored at Hogwarts with only pumpkin juice to drink. The Muggles are much more creative." She lifted the glass to her lips and drained it again.

By the time the bottle was half empty, they were both rather tipsy. Isabelle had a habit of laughing for no apparent reason, and Harry wore a wide grin not seen since Ginny's death. Even that thought was not enough to knock him out of his alcohol induced euphoria.

"You should have seen him," he chortled as he related one of the many stories of the Golden Trio's doings at Hogwarts. "He looked like he'd just been walloped over the head with a dead cat by Professor McGonagall. Just stood there with his mouth hanging open, the great git. And then he comes charging after me and Ron, screaming about taking a gajillion points from Gryffindor, and he slips over in it again. He ended up with all this purple goop all over his robes, and stalked off trying to look menacing, but he was purple. It was brilliant!"

It suddenly seeped into Harry's brain that Isabelle wasn't laughing anymore. He turned to look at her and found her smouldering eyes watching him intently.

"You know, Mister Potter," she said slowly, standing up and walking around the table towards him. He watched her come curiously, not really registering her intent. "It seems to me that I'm in a…rather unique situation here."

"How's that?" Harry asked, fighting to keep his eyes in focus to make out her face.

"I have a very drunk Harry Potter sitting in front of me," she said softly. "And I think I'm just drunk enough to do something about it."

In a display of rather astounding agility for someone who'd had as much Firewhiskey as Isabelle, she somehow ended up straddling his lap. Harry opened his mouth to raise a rather feeble objection, and found them captured by hers.

_What the hell_, he thought to himself, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and pulling her closer.

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Review, Eh? 


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